Pariah
by BSKV
Summary: From the top of the stairs and hidden behind the elegantly-carved railings, he saw her watching him. And when her eyes had noticed Ms. Abraham twirling about in her gown, he could see the envy found within their chocolate-colored depths, longing to be her. And just as quickly as he had seen her, she was gone. E/OC
1. Chapter 1

**I'm back! Alright, so apparently I am very impatient when it comes to writing stories, because I had decided that this time I would write quite a few chapters before posting so that I would have a reserve for when I haven't written, but after writing two chapters yesterday I find that I can't withhold them!**

**So here is my new E/OC story. I will be writing an E/C fic soon, but I was so inspired by this plot-line that I had to get it out of my head and onto paper.**

**If any of you have followed me from my previous stories, then you know that I am one to update regularly and do not keep you waiting for long. I thank you for taking the time to read yet another one of my works.**

**As always, reviews will greatly help me to continue writing and posting chapters quickly. I hope you enjoy!**

Ch. 1

"These are simply marvelous, Mr. Destler!"

Erik could not prevent the proud smile of satifaction that played upon his lips as his companion continued to inspect the blueprints that lay on his desk, spread out before him. His companion's dark-grey-colored eyes-the very shade of a storm that rolls in through the sky on a cloudy day-roved about the drawings carefully, his crow's feet becoming more noticeable as he squinted his eyes and admired the details.

"Not only have you made me a very rich man, but I daresay that you possess such a talent for executing the client's request so precisely! Not a single architectural detail escapes _your _keen eye!"

Erik observed the older man before him, now leaning back in his dark leather chair and pouring himself a drink. The golden liquid looked potent through the crystal glass, though Mr. Abraham's smile had not diminished, even after he had taken a large sip.

Erik knew better than to form the belief that John Abraham had been genuinely pleased with his designs alone, for it was the wealth that would come of it that had truly enslaved his every thought.

Yes, he had made this man very wealthy, indeed. For a brief moment, he wondered what, exactly, Mr. Abraham did with his fortune, for Erik himself had quite the resevoir of finances and did not seem to find much use for it.

He could easily end all efforts of employment and live in luxury for a long time, yet he found that the absence of work-of making himself useful in some sort of creative way-would certainly not suffice. If anything, it was the prospect of the next creation that had kept him alive.

He was alive, and yet he found himself more dead inside with each passing month. He had striven earnestly to rid himself of any painful thoughts-sometimes with the rare tune of his piano keys and others with the fervorous scribbles onto paper-but had not entirely become calloused to the memories which would at times enter his mind. Even while he was asleep, he could not dispel the bitter remnants of dreams that lingered in his thoughts upon waking.

Three years had seemed so long, and yet so little time to have passed since he had left France. The countryside of England had welcomed him, beckoning him to attempt to begin a new life, far away from anything that he had known.

And far from it, it had been. In the six-and-thirty months that he had been apart from the musical atmosphere, he had scarcely laid his fingers upon an instrument. Save for the few occurences in which he had been sleep-deprived and consumed by dark thoughts, he could not remember the last time in which he had actually played, let alone _enjoyed_ it.

The sound of a piano key had been something that he could not endure, for even the times when a melody would construct itself in his thoughts, it was quickly ruined by the sour aftertaste of the remembrance of what had occured in his past.

Music had once been his Mistress, and now he rarely called for her to keep him company. Instead, he chose the solitude that somehow seemed more comforting to his soul. He would have wished to not feel anything at all, if given the choice, but even the pangs of loneliness were less of a burden than the reminder of the time when he had once been foolish enough to seek out the love of a woman.

And glancing at Mr. Abraham, with his clean-shaven face, his silver hair combed neatly back, and his expensive dress-suit that almost seemed inappropriate to wear for that time of day, he wondered how such a man could choose not to feel emotions.

John had been a widower for many years, and during the two-and-a-half years in which the two had become business partners, Erik had never witnessed even an inkling of longing or mourning for neither the passing of his wife nor the lack of companionship in his life. Yes, he had been surrounded by many prominant gentlemen in society, yes he even had a daughter to care for until she would find a suitable husband, but did he not ever wish for the love of a woman?

How Erik envied his partner's detachment to the idea of love!

"We must celebrate!" Mr. Abraham continued to cheer. "You must join me for a drink and a game of chance this evening!"

Never had the former Phantom of the Opera imagined that he would be one to play cards with another human soul, and yet he often found himself doing such on a Friday evening.

Erik thought back to when their partnership had first begun. Once he had removed himself from the Paris scene and far from France, he found that the rumors and gossip of his reputation had not reached the town in which he now resided in.

He had even managed to respond to an ad in search of a skilled architect, and though he had refrained from appearing in public for obvious reasons, he was able to secure the position by submissions of his work. After establishing a correspondence for a few weeks via letters and firmly requesting that certain rules be formed in their partnership, Erik was reluctant yet willing to meet Mr. Abraham in order to begin their alliance.

And while at first Mr. Abraham had had the natural curiosity of what lay beneath his mask, it was soon overriden with the great satisfaction that money had brought him. Yes, his silence could be bought and paid for, and if the whole world had founded the same ideals as Mr. Abraham, then certainly Erik would have been accepted into society long ago.

Still, he kept his distance from the other townsfolk, and when he was not frequenting the estate of Mr. Abraham in the country, then he was perusing the grounds of his own property. Save for a handful of servants who had been practically forced into Erik's home by John's insistance that wealth could afford Erik the luxuries of a clean house and warm meals-for even though he was not certain as to why anyone would agree to work in his household without knowing the particulars of his face, he had an idea that a rather large bribe had been involved-Erik was seen by no one.

Erik's thoughts were disrupted by the pouring of liquid in a glass that sat before him. He politely accepted the offer, but did not drink much. He often found that alcohol brought about a dark bout of self-loathing that nothing could remedy, and he did not wish to experience it often.

"There is another design in which I am attempting to secure. I should know the details in about a week or two. I do hope that you are not in need of a hiatus any time soon?"

Erik smiled grimly at the question and whirled the liquid around in his glass and watched it intently. What else would he be useful for or to have to occupy his time with, than to be constructing another building? He wished for nothing more, for when his hands would stop working then his mind would begin, in ways most unpleasant.

Though Mr. Abraham was a shallow and superficial man, he was some form of company nonetheless, but after another hour of game-playing and formulating, Erik had had enough and bid his farewell.

He excused himself from Mr. Abraham's study, having been there enough times to know that the front door was not far down the hallway, and insisted on seeing himself out. After all, it was late in the night and John had had a bit too much to drink to be of much assistance to him, now.

Erik closed the door behind himself and stepped out into the long hallway that stretched before him. He passed a few doors which he knew to be a setting room and dining hall, but stopped beside the open door to his left.

Darkness had enveloped all but the few oil lamps that adorned the walls throughout the house, but this room was in use and well-lit. But why would Mr. Abraham's daughter, a young woman of two-and-twenty years, be awake at this hour of the night? Certainly she had required some sort of beauty sleep or whatever nonsense that had filled her head, yet the glow of a fire in the fireplace said otherwise.

Erik could not refrain from glancing into the room as he slowed his pace to the front door. It was not the thought of seeing Hattie Abraham that had piqued his interest, but rather, the idea that he had mistaken her character.

She was the epitome of a proper English lady; her cream-colored skin, long brown hair, and big blue eyes had drawn the attention of many suitors, not to mention the knowledge of her father's fortune.

Yet Erik had never found her to be attractive beyond the natural inclination towards her physical appearance, for though she had even been introduced to him and had sometimes made her presence known-an occurence that he had still felt uncomfortable with-she, too, was one to be bought with money. She could only overlook the fact that he wore a mask because she knew the depth of his finances. Even his estate had been rumored to be luxurious and grand, though others could only wonder who this mysterious architect was from afar, rather than witnessing his luxuries firsthand.

He did not find her vanity to be an alluring quality, and that is why he could not comprehend that she would find something to occupy her time with at such an hour of the night. Had she, perhaps, been a woman of thought and contemplation, all along? Could she be reading a book to herself beside the fireplace, though all this time he had been almost certain that she would not be one to pick up a book willingly?

And most importantly, why did any of this even matter to him? He had seen the way in which she had toyed with various suitors, enjoying the thrill of the chase and the amusement of being showered with gifts and compliments, even when she had no genuine interest in the man. No, she was still on the lookout for the wealthiest man that she could find, and it disgusted him.

When she came into view, head tilted downward as her eyes scanned the pages of a book beside the fireplace, he was slightly taken aback by the sight.

It was not the ivory-colored brunette whom he had seen many times, in fact; this woman was far different.

Her hair was pinned up on top of her head-a dark brown color-but he could see the tight ringlets of curls that had escaped. They were not loose and manipulated strands of hair, rather, they were naturally crimped-much unlike any of the other women in town.

Almond-shaped eyes that were of a rich chocolate-brown color were gazing intently at the words held in her hands, hidden behind thick lashes.

Her petite frame and womanly curves were accentuated in a coral-colored gown with a long and flowing train and draped sleeves. Her collarbone and smooth skin were exposed as the glow of the flames danced across them.

But what had captured his attention the most was the color of her skin-a soft and glowing light-brown. She was certainly of mixed-race, but most pleasing to look at.

As quickly as he had seen her, her head whipped up and she gasped at having been discovered. He could not even say a word before the look of fear in her eyes had caused her to promptly rise to her feet and flee the room.

Erik felt the anger begin to rise in his throat. Such a rare and exotic beauty, and not even she could stand to look at him.

It was with this ascension to thoughts of self-hatred that he left the estate, ever more grateful to return to the sanctuary of his private home, though he could not escape the thoughts of her glowing brown skin.


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

One week later found Erik and John taking a turn about the gardens as night began to fall. The sky was strewn with hues of purples and vibrant oranges, mingling together in a passionate dance of colors that looked to be painted by the hand of Aphrodite, herself.

"Sometimes I fear that the deadlines for this project are too demanding, but I have confidence that you can accomplish the task. You have not failed me, yet," John remarked as he folded his hands behind his back and casually began to lead their venture back to his estate.

Erik nodded his head and said nothing. He was still unaccustomed to hearing compliments that were meant for him, and hearing them uttered from the lips of someone who's character greatly lacked in substance was not flattering in the least.

"I am very grateful to have such a hard-working partner, in fact; it seems as if you hardly sleep at all, let alone maintain a social life!"

Though Erik silently agreed, his thoughts became somewhat bitter at the confirmation of his lack of companionship. Yes, John could ignore the fact that he wore a mask so long as money was in his pocket, but how could he expect anyone else to ignore it? Perhaps if Erik had even the slightest chance to have associations, then he would not work himself to the point of exhaustion, instead, and would reserve a bit of his time for the company of others.

"But I do believe that a holiday is greatly needed for you. After the theatre is completed, I insist that you take vacation and enjoy a bit more of your time."

Ah, yes, the theatre. Such a bittersweet request it had been for him to have designed the one and only theatre located in a two-hour radius of town. Erik had had mixed emotions on the matter, even being indecisive on more than one occasion.

At first, he had harbored a bit of excitement at the prospect of designing something so familiar, for he was well-acquainted with the grandiosities of a house of the performing arts. He could not only take pride in, but also enjoy, the idea of his work being accomplished and filled with musical talent once more.

And yet, the task had brought about repressed memories of the time when he himself had lived in such an environment, warning him of the fact that he was still teetering on the edge of despair.

He would not make the same mistakes again, no; he would design each room and area entirely different, though once it would be completed, he did not think that he would be able to admire it with his own eyes, and he was appreciative of the fact that it was a small distance to get there, anyway. While it would not resemble the catacombs of his dark and dreary home beside the lake, or the layout of the stage in which the woman he loved had once sang, he did not think that his heart could manage the burden of anything that reminded him of who he once was.

Forcing the thoughts from his mind, he allowed himself to dwell on the slight relief in which he felt about the idea of a vacation. The last two-and-a-half years had proven to be tedious and time-consuming, and even he could not function much longer through the fatigue that had consumed him, both physically and mentally.

But what would he do with himself? He could not imagine that staying in the confines of his estate would prove to be worthwhile, and he feared that it would only leave time for his thoughts to drift into the recesses of shattered dreams.

_Perhaps I shall travel, _he concluded. There had not been many places in which he had visited, and with the world to explore and wealth at his fingertips, it would not be difficult to carry out such a plan.

And yet, how would he get around with the sight of his face?

He was at a loss as to what to do with his allotment of time, and yet he decided that an idea would come to him, soon enough.

"Come, let us go-"

Suddenly, John hissed under his breath when he caught sight of a young woman not far from the two of them. She was so close, in fact, that he called her over with a snarl.

Erik's attention was drawn once more to a woman scurrying towards them as they quickly approached the large house. From afar, he could only see the color of her dress-a light blue-and her bonnet, but as she made her way closer with a frightful expression on her lovely features, his eyes grew wide and he had to quickly hide his surprise.

The two men stopped in front of her and John scowled at the woman whom Erik had seen earlier that week.

The light blue color of her dress gave a glow to her brown complexion, and Erik thought that certainly there was no color that would look terrible on her figure.

"What on earth are you doing, girl?!" John snapped curtly at her, almost forgetting that he had a guest in his presence.

How he would have kept silent so as not to bring her presence to the attention of his business partner, yet he could not so easily allow her disobedience to go unnoticed. Besides, he knew that Erik would not be one to gossip about such things to others, anyway.

Erik felt somewhat uncomfortable at the tension that had formed in the air, but he could not look away. Not with her rich brown eyes staring intently at him with a look that he could not quite pinpoint.

Her feminine eyebrows were furrowed in confusion as her gaze left Erik's to look at the man who had been accusing her. Her full lips were set firmly together, as if there was a bit of rebellion to her silence.

"Have I not told you that you are to be mindful when strolling about?!"

Erik had never seen John so irritated before, and his harsh tone of voice felt unnecessary. Still, he did not wish to intrude on whatever personal matter was between the two of them, and so he pretended to be preoccupied with the sight of the lake in the distance.

"I am sorry," the woman spoke. Her voice was soft, and yet the expression on her face betrayed the sincerity of her behavior.

Erik could see that she was upset, and he wondered what was going on. Who was she, and why was she being reprimanded as a child would be? He guessed that she was in her twenties. And why would John be acquainted with a woman of mixed race, when society frowned upon those with colored skin? By the lightness of her shade, he surmised that one of her parents had to have been ivory-colored, and so she was not entirely dark, but she was still not white, either.

Perhaps she was a servant, he thought, but then why would she be dressed so elegantly? A servant would hardly afford the delicate chiffon-wrapped bonnet that she wore, let alone the fine material of her silk gown.

He could not help but to observe her out of the corner of his eye-the attractive structure of her face, and how prominant her jawline was. She looked as if she had stepped out of a novel of a fairytale in a far-away and exotic land.

His breath caught in his throat when her eyes moved to his. She studied the outline of his mask with intent, and he felt uneasy at the thought that she was attempting to figure him out. Her stare was so unmoving that it felt as if she were trying to peer into his very soul.

"Make certain that it does not happen again!" John snapped before dismissing her with a wave of his hand.

The woman nodded, but her eyes never left Erik's. She picked up her skirts and returned inside.

How different her behavior was to the frightened countenance that Erik had beheld the other night! He had just witnessed a woman who seemed to be repressing her inner strength. In the stead of the fire and courage that he could see were written on her features, was a compliant and obediant woman. And yet he knew better, for he could see the anger in her eyes and the glare cast in the direction of Mr. Abraham before she had walked away entirely.

Erik and John resumed their journey into the house, and it wasn't until after they had reached the library when the silence was broken.

"Was that a servant of yours?" Erik asked, attempting not to sound too curious.

He was entirely puzzled by the display of emotions that he had witnessed outside, not to mention the fact that a brown-skinned woman dressed in fine clothes had been perusing the land.

Erik was certainly not one to hold prejudices of any race, for he knew all too-well the feeling of not belonging and being ridiculed for something that could not be chosen. But he was not ignorant of the fact that, if anyone of consequence in society had discovered that there was a mixed woman who was not a servant in the house, Mr. Abraham would be the target of much opposition and disgrace.

The fact that everyone had, for some reason, believed their white skin to be superior to any other color, had not deterred him from finding her to be the most beautiful woman that he had ever laid eyes on.

It was a thought that troubled him greatly, and he immediately chided himself mentally for it.

"No," John replied. "If only she were a servant, then it would be less burdensome!"

Erik was confused by his companion's choice of words, and he waited for him to continue.

"I will tell you something that is the most displeasing thing of all, but I trust that my secret is safe with you," he added.

Erik was a bit surprised that John would confide something personal in him, but he nodded anyway.

"She is my niece. No one is aware of it, so I ask that you say no more on the subject."

A niece! He never would have guessed that John would have a niece in his charge, let alone one so different from other women and undesirable among others!

He knew what John had meant-that none of his acquaintances were aware of the situation, and that he had done-and was doing everything-in his power to keep it that way. Should anyone discover the truth, or catch a glimpse of her, then his and his family's reputation would be ruined.

_Ah, so that was why he was adamant about her staying in-doors!_

And then he felt a most peculiar sensation-a tugging at his heart followed by a dull ache in his chest. How rare he had ever felt empathy for another human being, and he could relate, much to his dismay, to what she must have felt as a prisoner and to have been rejected by the world.

Nothing else was said about her, and John carried on with their discussion as if the instance of her disobedience had not occured.

When it was time for Erik to leave, he was met with Hattie in the hallway. She wore a maeve-colored evening dress and had adorned herself in a string of diamonds that hung about her neck. Her brown curls were twisted and braided ever so intricately and pinned with pearl pins.

How her gawdy appearance and lack of humility had never ceased to amaze him, as he watched her smirk and spin around to display her figure more prominantly.

"Mr. Destler!" she exclaimed, placing a delicate hand on her chest when she had stopped in front of him. "What do you think? Is it not stunning?"

Erik looked away from her and down towards the floor, dreading the conversation that she would engage him in. If there had been any way to avoid her, he would have done so eagerly.

"I am to attend a ball this evening," she explained, inching her way closer towards him.

Oh, if only she were glancing at him, with that sly look in her blue eyes, out of a genuine interest rather than the facade that she maintained! What he would not give to have a woman sincerely wish for his presence and to want for him to court her!

And yet, he knew otherwise. She was simply putting on a charade in order to tempt him, for she knew that she would be a wealthy woman if she could seduce the likes of him.

And how thankful he was that her behavior was vulgar to him, for he knew that he could not be tempted to make the same mistake of wooing a woman once more! If anything, she was the last woman on earth who could persuade him to consider it!

She pretended to pout, her scarlet-painted lips sticking out, and he wondered if she thought herself appealing by such a look.

"I do wish that you would join me, for there is no other man whom I would rather have the pleasure of dancing with!"

_Hardly! _he wished to laugh in her face, yet his expression remained cool and aloof. He wondered if her beautiful face would contort into a look of horror if she were to ever see the marred skin of his cheek beneath the mask. She did not know what it was that she was wishing upon herself!

He allowed her to brag a bit more, though it was wearing thin on his patience. But finally, she agreed to let him leave, and he quickly opened the front door, fearing that she would change her mind.

But before he was able to escape completely, his eyes wandered toward the staircase at the end of the hallway that could be viewed from where he was standing, and there he saw those captivating brown eyes staring back at him.

From the top of the stairs and hidden behind the elegantly-carved railings, he saw her watching him. And when her eyes had noticed Ms. Abraham twirling about in her gown, he could see the envy found within their chocolate-colored depths, longing to be her.

And just as quickly as he had seen her, she was gone.


	3. Chapter 3

Ch. 3

Estella Rose Crawley smiled to herself as she read the final pages of her most cherished novel. How blissfully happy she was whenever she should indulge herself in the fictional stories of romance and passion!

And how terribly disappointed she became whenever she was not absorbed in a book, for then unforgiving reality took the opportunity to rob her of any pleasant thoughts. Love was not really what literature had portrayed it to be, and she was decided that she would never find a man of good character in the world.

No, for no gentleman would be interested in a crossbreed. A woman who did not belong in society did not belong in a marriage.

Estella attempted not to allow her sour opinions to taint the wonderful feelings of a happy ending that she had just read, and she lost herself in the daydreams that followed, staring into the embers of the fire that was slowly dying and yet not truly seeing them.

Not even two minutes later, she was startled and interrupted by her cousin's return. Estella held onto the book tightly in her lap and pretended not to see the other woman, though she knew that she was visible to her from the hallway.

Hattie pranced into the setting room with her nose tilted into the air and a smile played upon her lips. With a dreamy sigh, she boasted, "My, my! What a lovely evening!"

Estella did not give her cousin the pleasure of gazing at her lovely dress with envy, instead; she focused her eyes on the clock, noting that it was well into the night. She had forgotten how tired she was, and the presence of her self-righteous cousin had only increased her desire to retire to her bed for the night.

"Do you not wish that you could have been there?"

Neither was it an honest question, nor did her voice contain a hint of sympathy in it. Estella could practically feel the smirk coming from those velvety red lips, and she fidgeted with her fingers in order to control her own emotions.

Of course she wished that she had been there! How unjust it was that her younger cousin was out in society and able to attend any gathering that she had wanted! How wonderful it must have been to wear a beautiful dress and primp herself until she looked stunning, and then to dance with men who had an interest in her!

Estella was not even allowed to dine with the family. While urged to take her meals in a spare room, she often preferred to eat in her private living quarters. If she was to eat alone, then she would not sit in an empty room and be reminded of it in such a humiliating way.

"Is that a new dress?" Hattie taunted.

Estella did not need to glance down at herself to know that she had worn the same dress on multiple occasions, as opposed to her cousin, who hardly wore the same dress twice.

"No, of course not!" she giggled. "Sometimes I forget that your father never left you any money, and you have not a penny to your name. Perhaps if you at least had a dowry then someone would take interest in you..."

Estella gripped the stiff edges of her book firmly and willed herself not to lash out at the girl, silently praying that the brunette would just disappear on her own. Or perhaps it was only a nightmare, and she would wake up at any moment?

No, for that would be too good to be true.

"There were so many fine gentlemen to dance with, but I suppose it would have meant nothing for _you_, anyway," she continued. "What was the name of that one man who thought you to be a lady, once? Oh yes-Mr. Roberts! Well, there were no men like _him_ there."

Estella rose to her feet, and left the room, even brushing past Hattie in the doorway a little too-harshly in an attempt to flee to her quarters.

Once there, she closed the door and locked herself inside. She laid in her bed, crushed a pillow tightly to her chest and allowed the veil of composure to fall, soaking the fabric with her unhindered tears.

A few hours later, Estella awoke with a gasp. She sat up in bed, heart pounding, and wide-eyed as she surveyed her surroundings. She felt herself relax, albeit slightly, once she had noticed that she was still in her own room.

She glanced towards her window and saw the bright moon in the sky as it cast rays of glowing light on the wooden floor. The fresh night air was much more welcoming than sleep, and so she put on a light cloak and left her room.

Her heart beat wildly in her chest as she tiptoed her way through the hallways, careful not to make a single sound so as not to wake anyone. If her uncle should find her roaming about in the night, then he would never let her live it down, and the small rush of adrenaline that she had felt as she passed his room was enough to make her both giddy with excitement, and ill with anxiety.

Once outside, she set a great distance between herself and the estate, choosing a spot among the green grass to lie down and gaze at the stars.

How calming it was to her nerves and soothing to her soul to watch their burning and flickering in the darkened sky above her, even catching a glimpse of a shooting star, at times. The sheer multitude of them all, combined with the soft chirping of the crickets, was enough to distract her temporarily from the disconcerting thoughts that she had suffered from.

After what felt like hours of staring at them and fighting the urge to close her eyes with sleep, she allowed her mind to dwell on what had plagued her most in life.

Oh, how she missed her dear father and mother greatly! It had been sixteen years since their passing, and hardly a moment passed when she did not think of them.

And yet, with the fond memories that she could recall, she could not understand why her father had left her no inheritance. Of course, wealth did not matter to her, for she knew that it could not buy happiness, as evidenced by the behavior of both her uncle and cousin and everyone in society, but it pained her to think that her father did not wish for her to live even a somewhat-normal life.

After all, they had not lacked in finances. She remembered the large house that they had once occupied together, and how her father would take her on walks among the forest and play pretend with her. She even smiled to herself when she thought of how he would conjure up some sort of treasure-hunt for them to participate in.

Her parents had always taught her that the color of her skin was not important. Her father was an English Gentleman, but he was not ashamed to love her ebony-skinned mother greatly. Even when ridiculed about their marriage by those around them-even family!-their love had not waivered.

_And it was ultimately their downfall,_ she thought to herself, remembering the news that the two of them had been shamelessly attacked and killed, cornered in an alleyway in town, for having "disgraced" society with their morals.

After their deaths, her uncle had been burdened with the task of bringing her up, and she was reminded of it on a daily basis. Upon first arriving at his estate, at the tender age of eight years, she was welcomed with the statements that she would never be a part of the family and the rules that she was to follow in order to seperate herself from the two of them socially. And while she did not have the status of a servant, she almost felt that her lot in life was worse, for she was hated far more and humiliated for it.

Estella was much too exhausted to cry anymore, though she most certainly felt like it. Part of her blamed her parents for their decisions to show their love and disregard for social expectations, yet she knew that she could not truly hold it against them. If she could have even an inkling of the happiness, love, and courage that they had, then she would have a much more satisfying life.

And yet, she had been in love once but had been reminded that she did not deserve a husband. What a mistake it had been to ever even think it!

Estella fell asleep among the grass and drifted off into a wonderful dream of love and happiness, nonetheless.

A few weeks later, Erik had spent countless nights and sleepless hours completing his designs so that he could submit them before the deadline. He had not seen John in over a week, much too preoccupied and confined to his own estate to have time for any socialization.

Now that he was finished and had submitted his work days prior, he found that he did not know what to do with himself. John had suggested a vacation of sorts, but what could he possibly do? Where could he go, if he could not even walk among town or run errands, himself, for the fear of being seen?

And so, he found himself wandering around the courtyards of his business partner, waiting for an idea to strike his fancy. John was probably inside of the house somewhere, noticing how Erik paced about back and forth among the shrubbery, and scheming a plan for his daughter to catch Erik's eye.

Though at times he felt as if Hattie was practically throwing herself at him, he reassured himself with the thought that, once he had decided what to do with his leave of absence, he would be done with their estate for a while.

It was as if Fate had read his thoughts and decided to play a cruel trick, for Hattie peered around the bushes with the batting of her eyelashes and a giggle, before she revealed herself to him.

"I thought that I might find you here!" she grinned.

Erik had half the mind to ignore her and walk away, but the sight of that mysterious woman forced him to stop pacing, and he watched the brown beauty casually taking a turn among the gardens, a little distance away. She was completely unaware that he was watching her.

Hattie noticed that he was distracted, and she looked in the direction of his gaze to see that he was watching her cousin, if she could be called family at all.

"Oh, don't mind her!" she said, a hint of venom in her voice. "She is an impish little thing, prancing about the yard as if she were a lady!"

"And she is not a lady?" he asked slowly, hoping not to sound too curious.

He had found that, despite how busy he had been, he could not get her out of his thoughts. At first, he had chided himself for even entertaining the idea of a woman in his mind, knowing that it would be foolish, at best, to feel something romantically for anyone. He was determined not to make the same mistake, and felt his anger internalize at the thought that he perhaps had not learned his lesson, else he would not have her image in his head.

But after a few days, he reasoned that it had only been natural to be curious about her, for he knew her to be John's niece, but yet she had become a prisoner in her own home.

That moment when he had caught her gazing longingly at Hattie before she left for the party was when he realized how lonely she must have been, and it angered him to think that anyone would inflict such painful solitude on a young and beautiful woman. Was she a dog to keep locked away?

And she had more of an opportunity to live a normal life than he did, for she had a flawless face and had been blessed with beauty that far surpassed other women. It was cruel to keep her hidden away, as he was forced to do to himself!

"No, she is not. I suppose that she is my cousin, but she is not out in society."

Erik was drawn from his thoughts and turned to look at the expression of repulsion on Hattie's face. How confusing and infuriating it was to see her look at someone else in that way, especially since she had never even seen _his_ face, which was far worse!

"And why not?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.

Hattie scoffed. "Do you even need to ask? What man would ever be interested in Estella, let alone a _gentleman_?"

_Estella. _ Somehow her name and the confession that she was desired by no one made her even more soft in appearance in his eyes.

Perhaps she was someone who would understand his own emotions? To be treated as less than human, locked away from the eyes of humanity? Without compassion, and mistreated?

It angered him to think that she had to endure such trials, and yet piqued his curiosity even more at the thought of how alike their circumstances were.

"Father hates having her around, but he had promised his brother long ago to look after her. She has not a penny to her name," Hattie explained. "But enough about her, for I am far more interesting!"

Erik ignored her last remark and thought about Estella's situation. Without a dowry, let alone the fact that she was not even out in society, and with her uncle's obvious dislike towards her, she was destined to be alone for the rest of her life.

_Or perhaps, she isn't,_ he thought to himself, as an idea struck in his mind.


	4. Chapter 4

**If you have not already done so, please leave a review, even if it's only one word, so that I know what you think. And thank you to my faithful reviewers who keep me going!**

Ch. 4

"And so you have it," John concluded. "What will you do with your spare time, now?"

Erik glanced down at the slip of paper that had been handed to him and read the amount of money that it contained. Quite a large sum it had been, and yet it did not matter to him. It wasn't as if he had completed the plans for the new theatre for the money, anyway.

"Actually, there is something that I wish to discuss with you before I take my leave," he replied.

Erik sat back in his chair with a stern expression on his face and rubbed his chin in thought, as John waited for him to continue with interest.

"I am aware that you are weighed down-to put it lightly-with the responsibility of caring for your niece, and I have a proposition for you."

"Oh?"

John's eyebrow raised in curiosity and he leaned back in his own chair, crossing his legs and folding his hands in his lap as the suspense lingered.

"It is true that no man wants her, and that she is penniless?"

"'Tis true. She does not belong in our society, and if I had not made a vow to my brother years ago, then I would wash my hands of her!"

Erik could feel his blood boiling at the unkind words spoken about Estella, but for appearances' sake, he remained calmly composed. Was it not enough for her to have to endure the thought that no man had wanted her, that she was destined to be an old spinster for the rest of her life, then to also suffer the hatred among her family as well?

He did not know this woman, but he knew enough of how she must have felt to decide that it should not have to continue, as long as it was in his power to do something about it. And yet, part of him was angered at the question of 'why?'. Why would he do this for a woman, let alone another person? The world had showed no kindness to him, and so why was he about to tempt his own fate by his decision?

Despite his inner protests, he suggested what he had been thinking for weeks.

"I wish to take her on as my charge."

Even the expression of utter shock and confusion on John's face had not surpassed Erik's mirrored emotions that flooded through him once he had actually spoken the words aloud. And how absurd they had sounded in his own ears!

A woman in his house? What a foolish idea it was, even in his mind! Had he not been heartbroken by the last woman whom he had been ignorant enough to befriend, or was he simply desiring some sort of self-inflicted pain? Would it not result in a similar, if not worse, outcome?

No, he could not foresee that a young and beautiful woman, let alone a woman who understood his feelings of rejection and injustice quite well, living in his household, would end well for him.

She could live in a different area of the house, but still have reign over the property-especially if he were to travel somewhere in his spare time. He would not be a bother to her, and perhaps it would be best if the two rarely crossed paths.

But then, was she to continue to live as a caged animal, only in a different cage? Although he knew that he could not offer her much of a normal life-for not even he had associations or went out in public-he determined that, at least, his treatment of her would be far from the abuse in which she currently suffered from.

"You what?!" John cried out in shock. With wide eyes, he could not imagine that he had heard correctly what had been spoken, for any man would be insane to desire such a thing.

"I know how much of a difficulty she has proven to be for you, and I am offering you relief," Erik repeated.

"But what on earth would persuade you to sully your own reputation with _her_?"

Erik had the strongest urge to tilt his head back and laugh at the irony of his question, but he managed to refrain from doing so. _Sully his reputation!_ Ha!

To everyone else, he remained as an anonymous architect, who, while exceptionally talented in his field, had been a mystery to them. Even if his identity was ever discovered, surely it would not be the sight of Estella that would destroy his image, rather; his face would be enough on its own!

"I suppose that I have compassion for her," Erik admitted.

"But..._why_? Why have compassion for the likes of an undesirable?"

John continued to stare at his partner in bewilderment, as if Erik had grown another head.

Erik's jaw tightened and his patience was wearing thin.

"It is no secret, even to you, that I am also an _undesirable,_ as you so pleasantly worded it, because of _this_!" Erik hissed, pointing to the masked side of his face. "_You_ may be able to overlook the natural inclination to question what is underneath, but certainly you are aware that, if I were to attempt to assimilate myself into society and the public eye, even _I_ would not be welcomed!"

John furrowed his brows in both concern and further confusion. Of course he knew that Erik could not be a part of society, for even he himself could not be entirely rid of the questions that arose from the sight of Erik's mask, but yet he could not figure out why he would still wish to burden himself with the hassles of a mixed breed.

Erik could see his reluctancy, and he almost wished that he had never brought the subject of conversation up to begin with. If he was to listen further to the insults spoken about Estella and indirectly relating to himself as well, then he would not be able to contain his temper for much longer, and he would forget persisting in his request entirely.

"You say that you can relate, that you have compassion, and yet you wish to have her live in the home of a gentleman, without the intention of taking her as your wife? Is that to be brought upon the reputation of a young woman-to be your Mistress?"

Erik felt his jaw tighten at the suggestion, and he was highly perterbed.

Not even a minute ago, John had been speaking about his niece as one would describe a foul animal who was unwanted, and now he had changed the manner of his description to that of a young lady who had a reputation to behold! Had he not admitted earlier that she was an outcast?

And yet, Erik knew of his true intentions. John was requiring security in the form of marriage, for he knew that he could not be truly free from her unless she belonged to another man.

He had been afraid that this issue would arise, and though he had toiled over it day and night for many weeks in a row, he had finally ended his deliberation, though he knew his choice to be completely ludicrous.

"Then I will marry her."

After he had said it, he almost regretted it. A million thoughts and warnings whirled through his mind, and he silenced them by the reassurance that he was doing a good deed for someone less-fortunate.

_As if marrying a monster is a good deed performed! _he sneered in his mind.

But he had contemplated it for quite some time and decided that, should he marry her, the two of them did not have to act as husband and wife. She could have her own space, and certainly he would never ask affection from her.

No, he could never be so cruel as to request that she lay with a monster.

The thought of how close he would come to having a wife and family of his own, and yet how he knew that he would never be loved by her or ask for her to bear his children, was something that greatly pained him. How happiness would, at last, be within his grasp, and yet impossible!

But perhaps, he reasoned, that it would be a good thing, after all. He could not deny that he had been filled with loneliness for the entirety of his life, and it would most likely ease his suffering, even if a little, to have another person to converse with on occasion (especially one who shared similar feelings of loneliness). And maybe they could one day grow to become friends.

_A friend._ He allowed the word to sink into his mind and thought about its meaning.

A friend was someone who would enjoy his company, wish to talk with him and spend time with him. A friend was someone who he could trust and perhaps even laugh with.

Madame Giry had been like a friend to him, even though she had not condoned his course of actions shortly before the destruction of the Opera Populaire.

How it saddened him from time-to-time to allow his thoughts to dwell on her-how he mourned the loss of the girl who had done so much for him long ago, and what she must have thought of him for causing the downfall of her home. It was all a terrible regret in his mind.

He ignored the stab of guilt in his gut and focused on the matter-at-hand. He could only hope that Estella would grow accustomed to life at his estate, and perhaps-dare he entertain the idea of it?-become fond of her new home. Even if nothing romantic should come of it, he admitted to himself that the idea of a friend was quite appealing.

"Marry her?! My dear fellow, I am afraid that you do not know what you are asking! I will hold responsible the fact that you are not yet married and have the normal desires of any other gentleman, but of all of the women in the world, certainly you cannot be serious about marrying _her_!"

Erik sighed impatiently and reached his hand into the inner pocket of his midnight-black waistcoat. While he had thought that John would immediately rise to the occasion of being free from taking care of his niece, he had also prepared himself for the possibility of his stubborn reluctance, and he drew out a wad of money and set it on the desk that had seperated the two of them.

"Will this do well to change your mind?" he asked a little-too-harshly.

Erik could not even smile when he noted the greedy look in John's eyes and watched him count out the large sum, for he was disgusted that he should have to pay for Estella as one would a slave. How weak and fickle anyone was who could be bribed by a high price! He was a puppet to paper, and nothing more.

"Well I...I will go tell her, immediately!" John stuttered, rising from his seat.

"I will be much obliged," Erik replied darkly.


	5. Chapter 5

**Thank you so much for the reviews, and I apologize for the wait. **

Ch. 5

Erik waited most impatiently in John's study for the answer to one of the most important decisions of his life, and enough time had passed that he nearly regretted it. He had risen from his chair and begun to pace the room back and forth, furrowing his brows at the foolishness of his decision.

He had even considered calling the entire proposition off, for he feared that his idea was illogical at the thought of wedding a woman. Not even Christine could endure the sight of a wedding dress that had been associated with him, so how could he possibly expect any woman to be thrilled in receiving the news of marrying a monster? And if it should transpire, how would his emotions ever remain unscathed throughout it all?

No, he was beginning to think that he had just dug his own grave.

John suddenly entered the room, appearing a bit flushed and out-of-breath.

"You may speak to her in the setting room," he announced with a weak smile.

Erik could not imagine that she had taken to the idea well, and that John had quite enjoyed her displeasure, and he felt worse than he thought he could about it all.

Yet, as he left the room and made his way toward where she would be waiting for him, his heart pounding at the thought of finally speaking with her, he knew that removing her from her current situation would be best. Thinking about his own similar circumstances, he reassured himself with the thought that, even if he had not been entirely pleased by how it was done, he would have been grateful to be removed from a bad situation.

_But why is she any bother to me?_ he wondered.

He could only blame a natural empathy for her suffering that he found within himself. He knew what it was like to be different from everyone else in the world, to be confined and locked away because of something that could not be controlled, and to have no one in the world to care. Even _he_ felt at times that he wished to be a part of society and to enjoy the association of others.

And somehow, he thought that, if the two could learn to be friends, then they would not have to endure these difficulties alone.

Meanwhile, Estella was brooding beside a window in the setting room, wondering what this mysterious man could possibly want by desiring her hand in marriage.

She hardly knew a thing about him, let alone the fact that they had not even spoken to each other. Why would he wish to wed a woman whom he did not know, not to mention the color of her skin and low place in society?

She knew that he worked in partnership with her uncle, but that was not a detail that had pleased her. Though she was uncertain of exactly what the two men did for an occupation, she could only fear that this mysterious man-Mr. Destler, as her uncle had told her only few minutes ago-was similar to the cruel and wicked man who was bonded to her by blood. After all, if anyone had become wealthy with Mr. Abraham, then certainly he was not a gentleman by any means.

What would she say to him? It appeared as if she would have no choice than to be forced to become the wife of a stranger. Such was the punishment of being a woman and an undesirable.

_You should be grateful that he has even taken an interest in you!_ John had spat at her, moments ago, and his words still rung in her ears. But why should she be grateful? His interest could not be an honorable one, and she shuddered to think of what her future now held.

Would she trade her current prison for another? Was she to be enslaved by the obligations of a wife-to breed whenever he so requested it of her and to obey his orders with no questions asked (but perhaps he did not want a mixed-race child and would treat her cruelly because of it)? Even if he was not as terrible as she thought him to be, the idea of yet another man controlling her was nearly unbearable.

She heard his footsteps as he stood in the doorway, and she slowly turned to look at him with an unfriendly expression.

The intense and unwavering glare in her light brown eyes felt as if they were piercing Erik's very soul, and he was thankful to have practiced the art of disguising his own emotions-after all, he did not wish to look a fool, now, by showing his reluctance and regret. No, for it was too late to go back, now.

Though a little fearful of what lay in store for him when he observed her cold demeanor, he was somewhat glad that she at least had a backbone and would not require nurturing of any sort. At least he would not make that mistake again.

She was the first to speak.

"My uncle has told me that we are to be married."

It was not a question; she was being forced to accept her reality. Hearing those words come from her full lips made Erik feel even more absurd than he had felt before.

Was he really forcing her to marry him-he, a monster and a disgrace to the world?

Whatever he looked like or not, at least he would treat her better. He would not degrade or look down upon her, of that he was certain.

But was he really to expose his home and himself to another person? Yes, he had servants, but they were paid employees who could somehow overlook his mysterious mask (though, not without bribing a few into silence with a hefty sum before they had left out of gossip or fear). How was he to coexist with a wife? Certainly they could remain in seperate quarters and perhaps only share a meal together if they had become friends, at best, but how could he risk it?

He was determined not to allow any feelings to result from the matter, though he groaned inwardly at the thought that she had clearly affected him enough to have gotten himself into the situation of marrying her. Could he not have just left her alone?

No, he could not, for he had found a fellow sufferer and someone who could, quite possibly, understand him. It was his only chance of companionship and friendship, even if it would never involve romance. And having a friend was better than being alone, was it not?

"Yes, in a fortnight," he answered dryly.

He could see the displeasure written on her features, and he thought it because of his face that she should feel that way. Still, he could only hope that she would grow accustomed to seeing his mask and would eventually see the improvement of her situation with time.

Estella could feel the chill that swept up her spine after his response.

In two weeks she was to be married to a man whom she did not know. Would he take her honor from her? Certainly he would take her pride and happiness, but was she to become a play-thing for his own amusement?

The tears began to form in her eyes and she looked away, cursing herself for allowing the emotion to consume her. Upon returning her gaze to the window and seeing the bright autumn sun shining through the red and orange colors of the leaves, she swallowed her tears and determined that she would be strong. She would not show weakness in front of him, for then he would know that he had won.

Still, she had to ask the question, "What is it that you want from me?"

Erik could see her internal struggle before she had hidden it with a blank and calloused stare. She, too, must have been required to show strength and composure even when she did not feel such inside.

Erik understood what she had meant by her words, and he was somewhat horrified. Had she thought him to be so monstrous as to ask her to share his bed?

"Friendship, if that is possible," he responded.

Estella snorted at him in disbelief.

"You are marrying me because you wish to be friends?"

Erik was growing angry at the insistence that she thought him to be no better than a rapist, and his patience was wearing thin.

"You will live in the room furthest from mine, if you wish, and I will ask nothing of you."

She still found it difficult to believe that any many would not wish to consumnate his marriage, for she knew that he had the normal desires of anyone else.

"And you do not want children?"

"No, I do not want children!" he snapped a bit too harshly.

Of course he had wished to have a family of his own and to experience what it felt like to be normal, but he would never ask that of her. And he would not allow himself to think of it, either.

Estella felt the sting of his words, thinking it to be the color of her skin as the reason why he would not ask her to have his children. Even to her own husband she would be undesirable.

But if he meant what he said, then at least she knew she could escape the confines of her uncle's house, but she feared that Mr. Destler would prove to be no better. Still, she knew that she had no choice.

Well of course she had no choice, unless she took matters into her own hands! And she nodded to him slowly as a plan had formulated in her mind.


	6. Chapter 6

**This is a long chapter, however; I feel that it is lacking. I have been experiencing a busy schedule and Writer's Block but was determined to write, anyway. In the future, I may edit it and split it up into two chapters.**

**Thank you so much for the lovely reviews! I am always happy to hear from you.**

Ch. 6

Estella found that she was too troubled to sleep, and she was awake early enough to watch the sun rise through the window of her small room. She sat, watching with a blank stare, beside the panes of glass, noticing how they fogged from her breath.

Winter would arrive with haste, and with it icy air that felt like daggers on her skin.

_How fitting that the weather should soon be as cold as the fate which I am to face in not even eleven days_, she thought to herself bitterly.

Ever since her uncle had broken the news to her of her impending marriage to a stranger only three days ago, she had been struggling with herself. While her immediate thought was to develop a scheme to disappear before the wedding so that she would not be forced to marry, she found that the idea of running away was most irrational and incomplete.

If she were to leave, where would she go? Certainly no one would take her in, and she would be left to wander the streets. It was a thought most unpleasant to her, and she shuddered to even think of what terrible circumstances would befall her.

No, she would not force herself to become victim to a far crueler person, and she did not have a death wish.

For once in her life, she almost wished that nothing would change. Though she found no happiness in her present lot in life, she felt that it would be better than to be thrown into the world of a strange man.

Still, she knew that, if she wished to survive, she would need to marry him. Though she felt this the most reasonable yet illogical choice of all, she determined that she would not give up on finding a way out of it, just yet.

* * *

><p>"Am I to host an engagement dinner, then?" John asked reluctantly.<p>

Erik could see the worry written on the older man's features, and he knew what he must have been thinking. Certainly it was not an honest question; it was simply asked out of politeness or obligation, as he knew that John would never allow his niece to be seen as a lady in public, even if she was to marry into wealth.

"No; that will not be necessary," Erik was quick to dispel the notion, though not for the same reasons.

Of course there was no need to have a grand celebration. Firstly, there was the reason that, while Erik had become successful in life, his identity and even the sight of his person remained anonymous, therefore; he had no acquaintances who would need to be invited to such an event.

And although at times he wished to somehow, even miraculously, assimilate himself into a normal life, he knew it to be impossible. And why should he follow the rules and standards of a society that had rejected him?

Not to mention that it would be a great risk to take on his part. Not only would he be exposing his future wife-how odd it was to think of any woman becoming his wife-to the ridicules and scrutinization of others, but he would also be rendering himself vulnerable. He would not endure the taunts or even frightened stares that would result from his mask. Or even worse, perhaps someone would have the audacity to rip it off of his face, as had once been done to him, or even recognize who he was. He did not wish to be painfully reminded of his past, yet again, for his self-despair was fully capable of doing so alone.

No, the less people in his life, the better.

John breathed a sigh of relief once he had been reassured that he would not need to present his niece to any of his acquaintances in the near future. He hoped that, once she was married, he would not need to think of her again. She would be Erik's problem, and he almost felt sorry for it.

Still confused and utterly perplexed by the idea of any man wishing to marry his niece, John still did not know what Erik's intentions were. But how could he complain, what with the way in which his pocketbook had been filled by it?

Erik had noticed the smug look of satisfaction by having been corrrupted on John's face during the past week, and he had been more than disgusted by it, in fact; he would not even ask for his business partner to witness his wedding, for the sooner that Estella would be free of him, the better.

It would be a small wedding, if it could be called a wedding at all. Only requiring two witnesses, Erik would allow a couple of his servants who would be willing to accompany him to the place in which he would be wed.

But could it be called a wedding, when the two people involved did not love each other? Though he had been on hiatus from any building projects as-of-late, he found that he had been quite busy by preparations for his marriage in only a week, but his mind still found time to plague him with troubling thoughts, nonetheless.

Was he making a mistake? He tried desperately to harden himself to the idea of having a normal marriage, for he knew that it could not be. It was only a marriage by legality, and for the sake of companionship and saving her from the fate of a lonely spinster at a young age. He could not continue to have dealings with her uncle with a clear conscience while knowing that someone else had suffered as he had, in that house.

But he knew that this marriage was not born out of love, and so he would not disguise it as such. Yes, he would allow her to have say in the details and even to have whatever she had imagined her wedding to be, even if it would be painful for him, but he would not take pleasure in it.

There would not be holding of hands at the altar, or even a kiss to seal their decision. Simply the vows or whatever it took to make it official was all that he had wanted, for he would not taunt himself with what he could not have. Why reopen the old wound in his heart by feeling those soft lips that he had dreamt about? He would not fool himself into thinking that it could be real.

Erik found that the more that he sat thinking on the details of his wedding and even discussing certain necessary aspects of it with John, the more sour his mood became, and he did not wish to remain in John's study much longer.

Was it not to be a joyful event? And yet he found that it brought him no joy, whatsoever. Perhaps a bit of relief to know that he was doing his part to show kindness and compassion for a fellow outcast who has suffered injustices, but nothing more. Maybe the two of them could become friends in the future, but he would not allow himself to develop hope for something that was not guaranteed.

He would not reveal to John that he had already found an officiant, thanks to his head butler, nor the fact that he already knew of the location in which it would be held. If John would not be attending, then such matters were irrelevant to him.

As Erik dismissed himself from the company of his partner, all that filled John's mind were two thoughts-how joyful an occasion it would be to finally be rid of his obligations to his half-breed niece, and what he would do with his newly-acquired money.

Erik slowly closed the door behind himself and sighed once he had stepped out into the hallway.

His face was written with the worry that it brought him to know that, soon, a woman would be living with him, even if not in the same room.

Would he regret his decision and long for the days of his solitude? He could not imagine wishing to be lonely and unhappy as he had been for the majority of his life, but he wondered if it was the better option.

He had never experienced true happiness, for each time in which he thought that he had felt it, it had only been an illusion. So many times when he had heard Christine sing, he had told himself that she sang for him, alone. It must have been her reason, for he had been the sole reason for her voice. Without him, she would not have had the talent and circumstances to rise to fame. Without him, she was only a chorus girl and no different than the other ballet rats who lacked talent.

But she had not sung for him. Even when her voice had filled his ears and heart with a sweet sensation, even as he watched her beauty upon the stage, deep down he knew that it could not be for him. How could it ever be?

He had ignored his rationalizations and reasoning, ignored the truth, and lived a lie. He behaved according to the fantasy in which he had been ensnared, and it took countless painful rejections and a terrible betrayal to shatter that illusion.

He knew that a woman could never love him for as long as he had the hideous abhorrance-of-a-face, but was he setting himself up for another trap by once again playing out the illusion? Was his heart strong enough to endure this marriage?

These answers he did not know, but he had already made the choice and would follow through with it, even if it might not have been entirely what he had wanted.

_Past the point of no return,_ he thought bitterly to himself. He even felt the stab to his heart along with it, and he wished for nothing more than to retire to his estate and to lock himself in his room, but he knew that there were other matters to attend to.

Erik suddenly realized that his gloomy thoughts and painful memories had rendered him motionless, and he still stood outside of the study. Before he could take a step further, he heard a woman's voice. Though muffled by the wall, it still drifted into the hallway in a dangerous tone.

He could not make out the words, but he knew that it came from the setting room, only a short distance away, and he slowly and quietly drew closer, but remained in the shadows. It was not as if she could see him through the wall, but he wanted to take his precautions.

When he was but few feet from the nearly-closed door, he stopped to listen.

"-do not understand why any man would marry _you_! Surely it must be a joke!"

It was the voice of Hattie, and Erik furrowed his brows and continued to listen to what she had to say to his soon-to-be-wife.

"I can assure you that it is true," Estella replied softly.

Though she was still not certain of what his motives were, she could not deny that he was intending to marry her. She was aware of his frequent visits to her uncle and not ignorant to the reason for such visits, especially while she knew that they had taken a break from their occupations.

"You must have cast some sort of spell upon him with your unnaturalness! Or perhaps he feels pity for you..."

Then, Erik heard Hattie's shrill laughter pierce the air.

"Oh, yes, but remember what happened with Mr. Roberts?" she was thinking aloud with a mocking tone, "Certainly Mr. Destler would never follow through with this marriage! It shall all turn out as it did before!"

Erik was both surprised and frustrated at the fact that hearing another man's name and developing a curiosity for it made him jealous, and he reprimanded himself mentally for it. Why should he care if there was, or once had been, another man involved?

Yet it brought back the images of seeing Christine with the Vicomte, and he could not help but to be angry.

Estella did not respond, and it afforded Hattie more time to continue in her taunting.

"Do you remember how you cried and cried after Mr. Roberts refused to carry out his engagement to you? He must have realized what a terrible mistake he was making, before it was too late!"

Erik was shocked to hear of this, and the idea of it angered him further. He could feel his jaw tighten and did his best to remain silent a little longer.

How could a man be so cruel as to break her heart? Though she had different-colored skin, she was still human, and a woman with feelings! Not to mention the fact that she was by no means unattractive-far from it!

Part of him was relieved to know that there would be no competition, and that he would be the one to claim her, even if she would not truly be his. He wanted to prove to her that he would never treat her that way.

But the other part of him did not want her near him after their marriage. It wanted to lock himself in the opposite end of the house and avoid her as much as possible, in fear that she would only be his downfall.

"Mr. Destler is an intelligent and wealthy man, and I do not think that he would ever marry far beneath himself for the likes of _you_!"

Erik could hear no more of her jeers, so he opened the door wider and made his presence known by walking into the room with a confident stride, though his expression was glaring in the direction of Hattie, who now wore a surprised look on her face.

"M-Mr. Destler!" she stuttered, sounding as a child would who had been caught doing something wrong, "I did not expect you to...to..."

"To hear what you have to say about the woman who will soon be my wife?" Erik snapped a bit harshly.

Estella, who had been seated on the light-blue floral divan, looked up at him in a surprise that almost surpassed that of her cousin's.

Hattie quickly stood up from the opposite seating once Erik had joined Estella's side, as if protecting her from the other woman.

Though they were not touching, Estella could feel the anger radiating off of him as he stood above her.

"I know very well what you and your father think of her, but I will not allow it to be spoken of! Despite what you believe, Ms. Abraham, I fully intend to marry her in a week, and if you wish for your father and I to remain on good terms, then I would advise you to keep your mouth shut in regards to her!" he said through gritted teeth.

Estella was thankful that his back was somewhat turned to her and that he was not looking at her, for she could not hide her shock. Never in her dreams would she imagine that someone would be defending her, let alone having been offended by the typical remarks in her behalf.

"And I am not completely ignorant that both you and your father value my partnership, for it feeds your greediness for wealth quite satisfactory, so if I were you I would tread a bit more carefully in my presence," he warned in a dangerously-low voice.

Hattie had never heard him speak in such a way, and she was quite frightened. She nodded her head quickly and felt awkward to remain in the room.

With Hattie having left the room abruptly, Estella quickly looked down at her folded hands in her lap and pretended to smooth out an imaginary wrinkle when she felt him turn to look at her.

Erik's temper had somewhat resided, though he could feel the remnants of it, but he now found himself nervous in her presence. Not only was she increasingly beautiful to him each time that he looked at her, much to his disappointment in himself, but he was also fearful of what would happen soon.

"May I?" he asked, gesturing to the matching divan opposite of her.

Estella looked up and furrowed her brows, wondering why he would ask her permission to take a seat near her. Was he simply being polite by pretending as if she were a lady?

Nevertheless, she nodded her head in agreement and watched him sit down across from her, with nothing but a small coffee table seperating the two of them.

Her eyes quickly swept over his appearance, noticing how he always seemed to wear dark colors, in fact; though she had only seen him a handful of times, he always wore black and dressed in fine attire. It both confused her and piqued her interest as to why he chose to overdress, though she could not quite complain. She would hardly admit to herself that she found his appearance most appealing, for he was much taller than her and she always thought that a well-dressed man was instantly more attractive.

Her eyes traveled over his cream-colored dress-shirt and up to his clean-shaven face, noting how strong and masculine his jawline was, how dark his hair was as it had been smoothed away from his face, and the furrowing of his brows as he stared at her in contemplation.

Had he not worn a mask, she could easily say that he was most handsome, but it was the sight of the bright whiteness of it that made her wonder what he was hiding. And why only on half of his face? Surely if he wished to hide his identity, why would he not choose to wear a mask over the top half of his face, instead?

Her wonderings were interrupted by his voice.

"I have secured the location and officiant," he said.

He almost said _for our wedding_, but felt that it sounded odd and refrained from doing so.

"Is there anyone whom you wish to invite?"

Estella could hardly believe that he was asking for her input, but she replied that there was no one, anyway.

"Then it will be a small ceremony. I hope that you do not mind," he replied.

Though unacquainted with the world of romance and marriage, he was not oblivious to the fact that most women wanted a large and elaborate wedding. He was thankful, however, that theirs would have to be small, for even the few details to plan were enough to worry over, as it was.

_Mind? Why would I mind? And why would he care?_ she wondered.

Estella said nothing more, choosing to remain silent because she was confused by his sudden kindness to her.

Had he felt obligated to it? Even Mr. Roberts had once been kind to her. But she could not help but to be reluctant about believing it, for she did not wish to see the harsh reality of what he truly would be once they were married-if he followed through with it, that is.

Still, thinking about how he had so boldly defended her only moments ago, she could not help but to feel a strange sensation in her chest and hope that he had been genuine. It would make her life far easier if she were to have a kind husband.

"Have you found a dress?"

Estella wanted to snort at him, but she kept her composure with an untrusting stare and the hiding of her emotions.

"Certainly you could not expect me to find one, when I have never been allowed in public and do not have the finances for it. I do hope that my uncle has not given you the illusion of my being a lady or one of wealth, for that matter," she replied. Though wanting to keep her voice free from emotion, the end of her response had been laced with acidity.

Erik thought deeply on her response.

"Then I give you permission to go into town."

This time, Estella did laugh at the absurdity of his words.

"Now you truly must be amusing me! And how, pray tell, would I ever manage it? You say that you do not want my uncle and cousin to mock me, yet you wish for me to be exposed to the ridicule of society?"

Though he knew it not to be deliberate on her part, Erik was angered that she appeared to be laughing at him, and he had to look away from her and remind himself of why she felt that way.

Of course he could not expect her to be willing to leave the estate. Had anyone told him to appear in the public, he would have a far worse response than she had had.

"Very well; then I will make arrangements for your discretion, and you will not be bothered by anyone. I simply ask that you find a dress, even if you will continue to avoid others."

"You are mistaken; I am not avoiding anyone," she defended. "I am a shame to society, and I cannot force such ugliness and disgust on other people!"

She was horrified once the words had left her mouth, for she was determined not to show her true feelings to him. She had just shown a moment of weakness, and she instantly regretted it.

Erik stood up, finding that his temper was near the brink of becoming uncontrollable. It was not only what she had said to blame, for ever since the day he had expressed his intent to marry her he had been reliving his terrible dreams and memories that he had so long repressed. It was more painful to him than he ever thought it to be, but what upsetted him most was his own foolishness into conjuring up the plan in the first place.

He refused to give in to another woman's charms, refused to be vulnerable and to expose his heart once more. This time, he would not be so blind. He knew that it would only end badly for him. And the fact that he seemed to be toying with the risk was infuriating to him, and he had only known her for two weeks! What would living with her bring?

"Do not think me a liar, Ms. Crawley! I told your cousin that I would not hear such words, and that applies to you, as well!" he barked.

Estella was taken aback and shamed by her having upset him, though she was not entirely certain why she felt remorse.

"I only wish that you would take advantage of your changing circumstances," he added in a softer voice. It was what he would do, if he was given the chance to change his life completely.

Then, he pulled out a bit of money from his pocket and reached out to hand it to her.

"Buy the most expensive dress in town, or don't. I simply ask that you look as a bride should," he added.

But she did not take the money. Instead, she glared at him.

"Do you think that your money can bribe everyone?" she spat.

Erik threw the money onto the table and his eyes burned into hers, though he kept his distance.

"I _know_ that it cannot, otherwise my fate would be far different!" he retorted angrily.

If money could bribe everyone, then he would have no need to hide away. He could at least pretend to be normal, even if people would only overlook his face because of how much wealth he had to offer.

Estella was confused by his response. Far different? What did he mean?

Erik did not allow her to say anything else, for he stormed to the door. For all of the trouble that she was causing him, she was certainly being ungrateful!

Before he left, however; he turned to look at her.

"At least I know that you will not deceive me because of my money!"

And then the door was closed.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thank you to all of my followers and reviewers! **

Ch. 7

"I am aware that you have previous experience as a Lady's Maid?"

Marguerite Thorson was a woman of small structure, and with dainty hands folded in front of herself, she was required to almost crane her neck in an uncomfortable fashion in order to look up at her employer.

With light blue-colored eyes, she blinked and responded, "Yes; to a kind woman a few years ago."

Erik observed the red-haired woman, noticing the cluster of freckles that dusted across her cheeks.

"Why did you become a housemaid, then?" he asked curiously.

Ms. Thorson had been employed in his household for nearly two years, and until he had heard of her previous experience that could, quite possibly, prove to be useful to him, he had not really taken notice of her. She had simply performed her duties in silence and stayed out of his way, as all the other servants had.

He often felt it unnecessary to employ any servants at all, for if they were to always scurry about so as not to be seen and could not participate in discussion or prove to be some sort of companionship, then of what value were their services to him? Yes, he enjoyed having a well-organized estate that always appeared prepared, and clean enough for, guests; but he never had visitors.

But once he had heard that Marguerite could prove to be most valuable in attending to his soon-to-be wife, he made certain to discuss the matter with her as quickly as possible.

"She passed away, Sir, and employment is very hard to come by these days," she replied humbly.

Yes, he supposed that it was. He was thankful that at least that was one situation that he did not to worry about, after all; how would he ever have been able to find work if he did not have the finances to survive? Surely he would have starved out on the streets, long ago, with a face like his!

Erik nodded curtly and promoted her to the status of Mrs. Destler's Lady's Maid, and though he was not certain as to what exactly that entailed, he instructed her to prepare for the arrival of his wife in only two days. With an increase in salary, he also apologized for the short notice of the position before he dismissed her in order to prepare himself.

_Mrs. Destler._

How strange and foreign it sounded in his mind and to his ears as the Head Butler spoke the title in a sentence! Never in his dreams would he have thought that in less than two-and-seventy hours there would be a woman living in his home and to be called his wife!

How his heart both fluttered from the nervous anxiety that seemed to overwhelm him at the thought and shattered from the heartbreaking realization that she would only be his wife legally. Never would he know what it was to have a woman truly love him, and how it taunted and mocked him to no end!

He was nearly finished with the preparations, though his heart was still not prepared. How could it ever be? He was uncertain as to what to expect and hoping that he would not make a fool of himself, more than he already had.

Would she keep to her quarters and live a private life of silence and absence, or would she grace him with her presence in a friendly fashion every-so-often? He hoped for the latter, though he could not quite believe it. Should she ever see his face-which was something that he would never allow-or discover his past, then he was certain that she would flee from him, wife or not.

He could not let that happen. He would do everything in his power to keep his secrets hidden from her, even if it meant that he lock himself up like an animal so that she could have freedom. How unfair it would be to burden her with his troubles! If she permitted, he would attempt to be a friend and gentleman, though he felt that he lacked the manners and propriety that everyone else in society had obtained in such areas.

Regardless of how events would transpire, he determined to be the best husband that he could be, even if he was not to take on the typical duties of a married man. If she requested his presence or friendship, then he would be kind and hospitable. And if she wished not to speak to or see him, then he would oblige her by giving her privacy.

"Sir?"

Erik was drawn out of his contemplation by his Head Butler, Mr. Matthews.

The silver-haired man with round spectacles sitting on the bridge of his nose and dressed in fine attire had been patiently waiting for his master's response.

"The bed linens and furniture arrived yesterday and Mrs. Destler's room has been prepared," he repeated.

Erik nodded his head in acknowledgement, still finding it a bit uncomfortable to be discussing such things and interacting with another person, as well.

Even in the three years that he had acquired wealth and partnership with Mr. Abraham, dealing with him in person regularly, he was still not quite used to having natural dealings with others. How far different it was from the shrieks of horror and gasps of terror at the Opera Populaire whenever his presence should be made known!

But he had grown a bit fond of Mr. Matthews over the years, and while he could not say that they were friends exactly, he was grateful to have someone fully competent around. Mr. Matthews had always done a fine job of managing things without crossing the line of interfering with Erik's personal life, even adapting to his master's unusual preference for seclusion and secrecy.

Erik thought that it had to do with the Butler's salary, as he had paid all of his servants higher than the normal wage in order for them to keep quiet about his mysteriousness, but at times he had to wonder if it was something else. Mr. Matthews was aging in years, far older than Erik, but yet he never showed a single sign of disrespect or suspicion. He always did as was told, and if he ever had a natural curiosity for what was beneath Erik's mask, it was never shown.

Erik almost wished that the two of them could have been friends, but he knew that the chances of anyone wishing to be his companion without bribery were nearly impossible. Or perhaps it simply wasn't right of him to ask such interaction from a man who had been a servant nearly his entire life.

"She is also here to see you, Sir. She is in the foyer."

Erik was caught off-guard by the announcement, and he suddenly found himself very nervous. After their last conversation, he was not certain as to what her temper would be, and he feared the worst. He had to remind himself that he still wore his mask and it was not unusual for her to wish to see his property before they wed.

"Thank you, Mr. Matthews," Erik replied, readying himself to journey down the staircase in order to greet his guest.

Before he took more than two steps, however; he stopped and turned to look back at his Butler.

"Mr. Matthews, have you prepared the other servants for her permanent arrival?" he asked.

Mr. Matthews knew exactly what his master's insinuation had been-whether or not the servants knew of Ms. Crawley's skin color.

"I have, Sir."

Earlier in the week, Erik had instructed him to let the other servants know, and to warn them that if anyone was found talking about or treating her any differently, then they would be immediately released from employment. She was to be treated as any respectable lady, and no less.

Erik was not too concerned about this request, for any of the servants who could be found left in his employment were ones that had served him for quite some time already, had learned about his abnormal habits and behavior, and had not questioned his secrets. Anyone else had been released and paid off for their silence long ago.

Certainly if they could tolerate the mystery of his mask, the lack of guests and normal entertaining, and his seclusion, then they could accept his wife's skin color.

Erik was relieved to hear it, though the idea of acceptance among other people was still new to him. He determined that it must have been the risk of losing their hefty wages that kept everyone silent about him.

If only he could have paid for the confidence of those at the Opera House; how different his life would have been! Perhaps he would not have been allowed to be seen by the public eye, but maybe a bribery would have allowed him to have more of a share in the productions and events of the theatre. Perhaps Christine would have viewed him differently if he had paid to live more liberally among them...

But it sickened him to think of anyone tolerating him because of his money, and he decided that having John do so was enough.

What had taken place at the Opera Populaire was long in the past, and though he found himself painfully yearning for the life of music he had once lived, he had not inquired as to the condition of the house after it had burned. He was uncertain as to whether or not it had survived the incident, nor what the singers and dancers had done with their careers.

He imagined that Christine had made haste to marry the Vicomte-he could taste the bitterness in his mouth and feel the stab of pain in his heart at the reminder-and perhaps fled the city or country, altogether. Perhaps they even had a child or two, by now.

_That could have been me..._he would sometimes think to himself in anger. While he had tried his best not to think of her, he could not prevent the dreams and memories that sometimes flooded his mind and reminded him of the most painful time in his life.

Even the nightmares of the old gypsy camp did not cause him as much suffering as Christine had. He would much rather endure physical pain than emotional. Knowing that the only woman he had ever loved could not have loved him in return and watching her with another man had, at times, made him wish to cease living.

If one could not have associations, friends, or even romance, then how was life worth living? Why should he continue to breathe with the monstrosity of his face? These were questions that would plague him late into the night at times until the fatigue and mental exhaustion of it all overtook him in a deep slumber.

Christine never could have loved him, for she had only felt a great and terrible fear of what he would do, and perhaps a small amount of pity once she had seen his suffering. But she could never grow to love him, and he would never force it on her. How could he, when she could not look at him without trembling inside?

It was wrong of him to force such things upon her; of that he was convinced, now. He had done much more harm than good, and perhaps he would have saved himself the heartache of prolonging his suffering by realizing this sooner.

He pushed the thoughts from his mind and focused on his current circumstances. He would never make such a grave error again, and the woman who would become his wife was waiting for him downstairs. Regardless of the dark thoughts that threatened to consume him, he would need to cast them aside at the moment.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yay, so many reviews! **

**I realize that Estella resembles the lead character in "Belle", but I hope that as the story progresses, the plot-line is different. I just thought that it would be unique to have a mixed woman in the story, since she would be a woman who Erik deserves but can still understand the feeling of being an outcast. This is not a cross-over from that movie.**

**Anyway, the wedding will be in the next chapter. :)**

Ch. 8

As soon as Erik came into view, Estella immediately felt the blush rise to her cheeks and she looked away out of nervousness.

How ashamed she was to have behaved the way she did during the last time the two of them had spoken! Though she did not know much about him, and she still didn't trust the honor of his intentions towards her, she could not deny that he had defended her in front of her cruel cousin, even going so far as to tell her not to speak of even _herself_ poorly, and she owed him the credit that was due for his kindness (whether it be genuine, or not).

Though she had chosen not to partake in much of the wedding planning and left it all to Mr. Destler, she had felt the anxiety of her upcoming wedding, and combined with the embarrassment and remorse that she felt from their previous heated conversation, she felt it necessary to pay him a visit.

In his own environment, he fit in quite well. Glancing around them, she saw the most ornate and intricate details and decor in the hallways alone than any other place she had been (and while she hardly left her uncle's estate, she had both read and heard about the grand palaces and homes of the wealthy and royal and imagined them to look similar to the house in which she had just entered).

He was, yet again, well dressed, and what little of his home that she had spotted was so elaborate that she wondered if it was all for show. Was his grandiosity simply to display his wealth, or was he a man of passion?

"Ms. Crawley; a pleasure," he bowed slightly in a polite greeting but kept his arms behind his back. Save for the small and brief smile as he said the words, he maintained a cool reserve to his composure and an emotionless face.

Not only was he good at hiding whatever was beneath his mask, and his identity, but he also hid his thoughts and emotions well, and she hoped that it would not prove to be a great mistake by marrying him. Was he hiding something terrible that could ruin her life? Would he turn out to be just as all of the other men whom she had been acquainted with?

She found it hard to believe that anyone could be so kind and remain uncorrupted by the vast amount of wealth that he had obtained. Perhaps she would discover his true personality and intentions after they were married?

Regardless, she forced a small smile and curtsied in response, though she was unaccustomed to being greeted so formally. No one had ever showed her even the smallest of consideration, and she could not help but to question his motives with suspicion.

"I came to apologize for my behavior the other day," she announced, unable to look him in the eyes.

Not only was the light that streamed into the hallway playing upon his features in a most handsome way, but she would not admit to herself that he was rather pleasing to look at. Because he hid part of his face with a mask-though she could not find fault in his appearance-her curiosity for the reason of him wearing it increased.

Even so, she did not wish to gaze at him in a pleasant way or allow her eye to wander at all, for she knew that it would only prove to be disasterous for her. No matter how well-mannered, gentle, and handsome he appeared to be, she knew that there must have been some quality that would make him a terrible person. After all, no man was truly of such good character without having a selfish intention behind it.

"You were so kind to me, and I should not have reacted the way that I did," she continued meekly.

Erik was shocked by her confession, as he had certainly not expected the reason for her visit to be an apology.

She had taken the time and effort to travel all of the way out to his estate-for it was quite a distance from that of Mr. Abraham's-and wished to gain his forgiveness. Never before had anyone admitted to a mistake in his behalf, let alone apologized for it.

"There is no need to apologize," was all that he could think to say.

A few moments of awkward silence filled the room as Estella gazed at her surroundings.

"Whatever it was that persuaded my uncle in all of this has truly worked, for he allowed me to take a carriage in order to visit you. That is a privilege that I have never experienced," she stated with a tone of genuine gratitude. It had been a pleasant occurrence to enjoy the fresh air of leaving the estate.

Erik was reminded of the injustice that she had faced during her life and knew that his conscience could rest better once she was out of that dreadful atmosphere.

"Yes, well; you will be afforded the luxury of a carriage as often as you'd like while you are here," he replied.

This only increased her distrust in him, though a part of her so desperately hoped that he was telling her the truth.

"Are you busy, at present?" she asked curiously. She could not help but to look at him now, for she wanted to attempt to read his expression.

"For you, I can make time," he replied.

_How gentle and wonderful he seems, but I know that it cannot be true, no matter how much I wish it to be, _she thought sadly to herself. Oh, if only he was sincere! If only a man was capable of being so, for then she could have a bit of happiness in her marriage to him!

How sweet his words sounded to her, how flattering the attention that he gave her! He spoke to her as if she were an equal, no; he treated her as if she were a prized and sought-after lady of class.

She ignored the light fluttering in her chest that had resulted from his words and cleared her throat, deciding that the silence was suffocating her with depressing thoughts.

"Would you care to show me around? After all, this will be my home in a matter of days."

How many times did Erik have to hear the reminder of his wedding before it would sink into his mind and he would realize the reality of it? Even from her lips it sounded like a far-away concept.

"But of course," he replied, gesturing for her to follow him.

Erik did not show her the entirety of his estate, for it would have taken far too long to explore all of the rooms, and he found that most of them were both unused and unnecessary. When one acquired much wealth, they were nearly forced to purchase an estate that contained multiple rooms, even if they were to be unoccupied.

Estella admired the furniture and decor in each room, stunned that everything had been chosen with such care and good taste.

She could remember setting eyes upon his estate for the first time, seeing the long and winding path that led to his property among thickets of trees and rolling hills. A large building constructed of light gray stone, she had also spotted the vast lake that hid in the back of the property, and she was eager to see it.

In the meantime, he led her through a guest dining hall in which would be occupied if visitors were to be recieved in large quantities, a more private dining room that she imagined he might have taken his breakfasts in, a medium-sized study that looked similar to the one her uncle had often occupied, a few other rooms, and a ballroom, though she was almost certain that he was not one to hold gatherings.

During all of this, Erik would casually glance at her out of the corner of his eye in order to see the expression on her lovely features. A small part of him even gloated with pride mentally when he could see the awe and admiration that she had for his home.

Out of the many rooms in which she had seen, one stood out to Estella most.

The Drawing Room consisted of golden decorations that crawled upward toward the vaulted ceiling, and crimson-colored carpet that contained gold floral patterns. Various paintings of scenery and landscapes adorned the walls, along with golden oil lamps, though she noticed the various candelabras that were placed on nearly every surface.

A cream-colored divan sat behind a small tea table beside the fireplace, and she imagined herself enjoying a nice book with the warmth of a fire in the winter. A few matching chairs were scattered throughout, accented by the hanging scarlet-colored draperies that dressed the windows. But what most caught her eye was the large pianoforte and beside it, an expensive-looking and meticulously-detailed harp.

Before leaving the room, she could not help but to ask, "Do you play any music?"

Erik inhaled sharply and did not turn to look at her.

"I used to," he replied, hoping that she would not persist in the topic of conversation.

She could hear it in his voice that he did not wish to discuss it, and she silently cooperated by following him without another word.

The two of them found themselves near the front door once again, and she noticed that on either side of her were two large staircases that led up to a second floor. She could either go left or right, and an entire section of the house could be further explored.

Erik gestured toward the one to their left and explained, "My quarters are upstairs. Yours can be accessed by the other staircase."

Estella was surprised to hear this as she turned around to look at the identical staircase in the opposite direction.

She was to occupy the opposite end of the house, even to have her own sleeping quarters? The idea shocked her, as she had imagined that he would want what any other man would want and request that she share a bed with him.

Perhaps even _he_ thought her to be undesirable, but then why was he wishing to marry her? Was he performing some sort of charity for her, out of pity for her circumstances?

The thought did not appease her at all, for the last thing that she wanted was his pity. Was she to be isolated and continued to be reminded that she was unwanted, even by her own husband?

"So we are to occupy the opposite ends of the estate?" she asked. She already knew the answer, but she was hoping for some sort of explanation without having to ask it or approach an intimate topic of conversation.

"Yes; you will be free to roam the premises as you please, but I ask that you respect my private quarters."

She knew what he meant-that she should not disturb him or wish to see his room. Of course he was a mysterious man who hid some sort of secret, so why would he wish for her to be a bother to him?

"You will not..." he swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and looked away from her, finding the words difficult to speak. "You will not be obligated to fulfill any...any wifely duties..."

Estella felt her shame increase, though she was relieved to hear it. Was this another attempt to woo her, to convince her that he was a gentleman? Were these false words to be spoken to her, so that she would think that all would be well?

She had to be blatant in her response, for the question was something that had begun to confuse her thoroughly.

"So I am to believe that you desire no children?"

Of course he would not desire children with her; how could he, with the color of her skin? She could not expect him to wish the curse on their vanity and to suffer the mistreatment of others as she had.

Perhaps he would take a Mistress in the future, one with cream-colored skin and of good breeding? What a shame it would be, and she feared that almost nothing could be worse than proving to be a failure as a wife.

"I do not," he nearly stuttered. "It is not a topic that I wish to discuss."

It was difficult enough for him to have a wife that he could never feel the affection of, to be so close to obtaining the love of a woman and to live the rest of his days in blissful companionship without being able to do so. He could not fathom the idea of having a family, when even the idea of the two of them becoming friends was still uncertain.

He could never ask that of her. He could not endure the horror that he would inflict upon her, the disgust that she would most certainly feel to have him even touch her. How could he ever force that upon her? No woman would possibly desire to feel the lips of a monster, and he would hate himself for it.

Estella was somewhat frustrated by his secrecy and the way in which he seemed to avoid important matters. How was she ever to trust him, if he would not trust her? How was she to feel comfortable with him, if he would not give her reason to be?

Still, she persisted in her questioning, for she was at a loss as to his character.

"May I ask, if you do not wish these things, then why am I to be your wife? Why not allow me to continue living with my uncle as I have? I do not want your pity!"

"It is not pity that persuades me," he replied. "I could not live with myself with a clear conscience while knowing that you are suffering the same fate that I have been destined to, and I have the power to change it."

How was he destined to the same fate as she? He was wealthy, of far greater rank, and could probably have nearly anything that he desired. What did he know of suffering, that he had not inflicted upon himself with his secrecy and isolation? If he had not sought out the company of others, then certainly he could not expect to be a part of society.

But in her circumstances, she did not have a choice. It was out of the question to think that she could ever live a normal life. She would repulse those around her if seen in public. And while he clearly had something to hide, and there was something beneath his mask, at least he _could_ hide it. Her skin was so noticeable that no amount of powder or clothing could hide the fact from others.

Still, perhaps he did know what it was to suffer at the hands of others. After all, whatever was beneath his mask was probably not desirable, or perhaps he simply wore it to hide his identity; she was not quite certain which.

There was a lot to learn about her soon-to-be-husband, and she only hoped that she could discover his secrets and that they would not be too unpleasant.

"But why?" she asked. "Why change my circumstances when you do not know me; when you owe me nothing?"

"We are both shunned by the society and people around us. Perhaps it is absurd for me to think it, but I was hoping that we could draw comfort from each other's friendship. If we do not have to face our hardships alone, then maybe it would not be as burdensome..."

Estella was both surprised and fearful to hear that he was not welcomed in society, for she could not imagine why. Was it because of his mask, when everything else about him boasted of wealth and finess? Or had he done something terrible and kept a horrendous secret? Was she to endure an even worse fate?

She said nothing more and only nodded her head in acknowledgement before she voiced her desire to return home. It was getting late in the day, and she had much on her mind that she wished to ponder in the safety of her room. If it was only to be her room for a few more days, then she would take pleasure in occupying it during her final moments of remaining unmarried, before she would need to face the uncertainties and fears of her future.

Erik accompanied her to the door and told her that they would not meet until their wedding in a little over two days.

Estella thanked him for his time and for showing her her soon-to-be home before he watched her disappear into the carriage that led her far away from his estate.


	9. Chapter 9

**This chapter turned out much longer than I had expected, and so I broke it up into two chapters. Sorry to prolong your excitement, but I do hope that it is not entirely unsatisfying.**

Ch. 9

Erik had just finished tying his cream-colored cravat when he heard a knock on his door.

"Ms. Crawley wishes to see you, Sir," he heard Mr. Matthews' voice on the other side.

Erik called for him to let her in, though he had suddenly felt extremely nervous. Was she coming to tell him that she would not follow through with the wedding, when it was only in two hours?

Once the door had opened, he turned around to see her walk in and shut the door behind herself. She was wearing a light violet-colored dress; certainly not a wedding dress.

Erik felt the stab of dread that went through his heart as he feared the worst.

"Should you not be preparing yourself?" he asked, concerned, as he furrowed his eyebrows at her.

He was not exactly certain how much time was required in order for a lady to dress herself, or how she would need to prepare her appearance, but he was certain that she should at least begin to take time more seriously.

She did not exactly answer his question, instead; she slowly strode across the room to him and stopped in front of him with a sly smile that played upon her lips.

"I only wanted to see my future husband," she purred.

Once she had reached a hand up to stroke the side of his face, Erik could not help but to become stiff at the thought of her touching him.

Was he dreaming? Why would she ever take such liberties, when she had clearly been disinterested in him?

But oh, how it felt wonderful to have her fingertips on the normal side of his face, slowly tracing his jawline. He even closed his eyes to savor the moment, remembering that the last time he had been touched was years ago, and it had not been as sweet as this.

Christine had touched his face and even kissed his lips, but it was only to save herself and her Vicomte, and then he had to watch her leave.

But Estella was willingly caressing his skin and soon, she would be his wife.

Did this mean that she wished to be friends? That she would favor his company? Would she-dare he think it-even grace him with a kiss? One sweet moment of happiness?

She cupped his face in both hands and he felt himself on the verge of losing control. This woman was maddening, and if she did not cease in her affections then he would not be able to stop himself from kissing her.

He opened his eyes to see her devilish grin, and it was the slight unnaturalness of her smirk that caused him alarm, for he was too late to discover what her true intentions were before she had ripped off his mask without hesitation.

For a moment, he had not realized what had happened or had been too shocked for it to seem real. But once her face had contorted into a look of terror and her screams filled the air, he felt his heart shatter and the anger overtake him.

She backed away from him with wide eyes and clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her final gasp.

"Yes, it is best that you cower from me before any real harm befalls you!" he seethed at her.

He slowly and dangerously stepped closer to her and she took a few steps back, until she was cornered beside the bedroom door. He glared at her with all of the fury and despair that he felt and he watched her hand slowly grasp the doorknob as she prepared herself to leave.

And then he observed how her countenance changed. After the initial wave of shock and fear that had swept through her, she had developed a smirk on her face.

"I knew that I could never marry you!" she spat at him, even gaining the courage to laugh in mockery. "You are a monster!"

Those were the final words that rung through his ears before she flew open the door and ran as fast as she could, away from him.

Erik's eyes fluttered open and he was panting heavily as he sat up to discover that he had been sleeping beneath his golden satin sheets. Glancing around the room, he could hardly decipher the shapes of his furniture, as darkness had consumed it.

He first wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead and placed his head in his hands, reassuring himself that it had only been a dream. A terrible, terrible dream, but it had not been real.

The remnants of his nightmare still permeated his thoughts, and he found that he had no desire to return to sleep. Instead, he lit a few candles and took notice of the time.

It was nearly six o'clock in the morning, and his wedding was in not even seven hours. Soon the sun would rise to greet the beginning of a new day, and soon he would bind the rest of his life to a woman whom he hardly knew.

But was it not enough to know of what she suffered? Though he did not know the trivial things, such as what her favorite color was, or what pursuits she had enjoyed, did he not feel as if the two were already one in spirit, having shared the same type of life that had been outcast and shamed from society? Or was he making the worst decision of his life by wedding her?

These things he pondered for hours, finding himself both troubled and restless during the morning. Too anxious to sit in one place for long, he often stood to pace back and forth, only to return to his seat beside the window and attempt to clear his mind as he watched the warm and bright colors fill the sky.

If she would marry him but wish to keep to herself, perhaps even avoiding him altogether, then so be it. If she should never appear and prevent herself from giving her hand to him in marriage, then there was nothing that he could do. He was powerless to anything that would transpire that day, and the realization of it drove him insane.

How could he render himself so vulnerable? This was not like him; to be so helpless in how things would play out. Throughout his life at the Opera Populaire he had always made certain to be aware of what was going on and to be in control, even if by means of warnings and instilling fear in others. No one dared to disobey him, and his instructions were certain to be followed if he made his presence known in the slightest.

The last time that he had felt so completely and utterly helpless was when he had watched Christine abandon him. He could remember the feeling of being unable to stop her as he watched the boat drift further and further away. And it was a feeling that he had been determined never to experience again.

And yet, here he found himself unable to control what would happen. If Estella should leave him at the altar, then he would once again be that broken man who sat beside the lake for the last time.

Of course he had not developed the same romantic attachment to Estella as he had Christine, but though he had been fearful of his future with her, he could not deny that a small part of him had reignited the fire of hope-hope for companionship, for understanding, and a friend.

If she should leave him, then it would most certainly be his downfall. How could he ever live through two rejections? Though he did not risk as much this time, for his heart was not enveloped by her, he could not endure the thought of yet another reminder of the terrible fate which had been destined for him.

At nine o'clock he went to the room that would be hers and made certain that it was ready, and after deciding that it was, he ordered for a carriage to take Ms. Thorson to John's estate. There were only four hours before the wedding, and he knew that Estella would require the assistance of her Lady's Maid in order to prepare herself, if she should even still be found there at all.

Part of him worried that she would not be found, but he decided to cast his fears aside and focus on the business of his estate as it was prepared for the arrival of his bride.

* * *

><p>"I cannot do this! I am not prepared!" Estella panicked.<p>

Marguerite Thorson closed the bedroom door behind herself and slowly made her way towards the fearful woman with a warm smile on her face.

"I am certain that everything will turn out well, M'Lady," she replied in a soothing voice.

Estella turned to look at the auburn-haired woman, feeling unusual to be discussing her thoughts with another person.

She was not accustomed to having a companion, and when she had first heard that she was to have a Lady's Maid, she thought it highly unnecessary. After all, had she not dressed and tended to herself throughout the years? Was she a child, to be viewed as incapable of doing these tasks on her own?

And yet, she somehow found it comforting to have another woman's presence in the room, especially since it was not that of Hattie's.

"May I prepare your dress for you, Ms. Crawley? It will take some time, and we are to leave in two hours," Ms. Thorson asked.

Estella gestured toward the glistening ivory-colored bundle of fabric that had been laid out on her bed. Ms. Thorson picked it up with gentle hands to admire it.

"What a beautiful dress it is, M'Lady," she remarked, her smile widening as she searched for the other articles of clothing that would be required.

"Beautiful it may be, but not to the pocketbook! I have not been acquainted with having money or making purchases, and once the shopkeeper had discovered how much Mr. Destler had given me, she insisted that I purchase the most expensive gown in her possession!" Estella rubbed her temples in frustration.

The entirety of the morning thus far had ocurred in the same fashion; she had awoken earlier in the dawn than was her habit, and found herself too anxious to leave the room. She had already denied taking any meals, for her stomach was too unsettled for it.

"Do not upset yourself, M'Lady; he will not mind."

"That is not the point! I was pressured into it, just as I have been pressured into all of this! It is as if I do not have a choice!"

Estella had contemplated the original idea of escaping the house in the early hours of the morning, but had decided against it. She may have been poor and undesirable, but destitution and homelessness were not circumstances that she wished to ever experience.

"It is normal to be anxious on your wedding day. Your feelings will settle," Ms. Thorson located a corset and placed it beside the wedding gown.

"Is it normal?" Estella questioned. "Is it normal to be marrying a man after only meeting him two weeks ago? After only speaking to each other twice? Probably it is more common for women to marry without love or acquaintance than I would imagine, but I never wished to be one of them!"

Estella was now pacing back and forth, running her fingers over the top of her hair and feeling as if she could hardly contain her bursting emotions for much longer. Then, she stopped in front of the tall looking glass and touched her cheek.

How often she had gazed at her reflection, wishing that she had a lighter complexion, wishing that she had not been cursed with the golden hue of her skin. How beautiful could she look on her wedding day, when the very sight of her was an abhorrence?

"What if I am a disappointment to him? Will he not realize what a mistake it is to marry someone like me?"

The tears had formed in her eyes the more that she glanced at herself in comparison to Ms. Thorson. While the maid was not exactly stunning in appearance, she still had porcelain-colored skin. She was still considered normal. Even if she did not draw attention as a servant, at least she did not draw the negative attention of others, as Estella had.

Marguerite slowly walked over to Estella and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Mr. Destler is a very kind and gentle man. He has not lived without hardships that he has suffered, himself," she said.

Though she did not know her master on a personal level, she could speak from the experience of him as an employer. He was always a gentleman in his dealings with the servants; he never lost his temper or demanded anything harshly. And though he had preferred his solitude and was rarely to be seen, she had, on rare occasions, noticed the sadness in his eyes that would consume him.

Estella swallowed her tears without letting a single one escape, and she turned to Ms. Thorson with curiosity.

"So you know him? Do you know what he is hiding? Why he wears the mask?"

Marguerite shook her head.

"I only know how he treats the servants, and I can assure you that he is nothing comparable to what you are fearing."

Though she had not answered her questions, Estella felt a little relieved to be reassured by someone else as to the character of the man who would be her husband. And though she was still uncomfortable with the idea of marriage to him, she knew that, in the end, she could not refuse. The alternative was simply not an option.

Nearly two hours later with ten minutes to spare, Estella stood with her back to the mirror. Ms. Thorson had just announced to her that she had completed her preparations.

They had been a grueling few hours, for never had Estella experienced so much discomfort in the tying of her corset, of being assisted into such an extravagant gown, and having her hair primped and manipulated.

She had not seen what she looked like, and part of her did not wish to. What if she did not look as she had dreamed about on her wedding day? How could she, with her appearance?

"He had me bring these for you," Ms. Thorson said, pulling out a flat box out of the parcels that she had brought with her.

Estella stared at the black velvet box in wonder, and when it had been opened to reveal its contents, her hand flew to her mouth in surprise.

Glistening in the light that streamed through the window were the most beautiful jewels that she had ever laid eyes upon. Not even Hattie's jewelry could compare, and she felt entirely undeserving as she gazed at the sparkling clusters of diamonds.

"I could not possibly..." she gasped.

Ms. Thorson wore a wide smile as she watched her Lady's surprise. How beautiful she had looked, and for her to wear the jewels would most certainly please Mr. Destler.

"If you are to be his wife, then you must become accustomed to a different way of life," she said, walking behind her to place the jewels about Estella's neck.

Estella allowed the gesture, though she felt that she should refuse. If he was already bestowing such lavish gifts upon her-and she was throughly perplexed as to his motives for doing so-then certainly he expected something from her in return. No man would do such a thing without wanting something, and though he had assured her that he would not request anything except for friendship if she wished, she found it difficult to believe.

Before she knew it, Ms. Thorson had adorned her with the matching teardrop earrings as well, and she knew that it was too late to refuse any of what was happening. She was wearing the dress, decorated in his gemstones, and the ceremony was only an hour away. She was going to get married.

Ms. Thorson put the box away and packed up her belongings.

"It is a bit of a journey, M'Lady. Are you prepared for our departure?"

Estella nodded her head, though she felt as if she were in a daze. It was surreal to think that she would no longer remain unmarried and living under her uncle's roof. If she were to have more freedom than the life of a caged animal, she did not know, but she had never imagined that the day would come in which she would be someone's bride.

"Do you not wish to see yourself?"

Estella thought about the absurdity of the question, though a part of her was curious. Still, no matter how she had been painted and dressed up, she knew that it could not hide her most undesirable quality.

"I do not think so," she admitted softly, glancing down at the floor in embarrassment.

Ms. Thorson looked up at her with a saddened expression.

"Please permit me to say so, M'Lady; I understand how you must be feeling, but you will only ever be a bride once, and you are certainly lovely this morning. Do you wish to regret never knowing?"

Estella sighed in defeat. Of course she wished to know. As ashamed of her skin as she was, she could not help but to be self-conscious and to wonder.

She took a deep breath before she turned around, and even _she_ had not expected to see the woman who was staring back at her in the glass.

Though unprepared for the expense of the gown, she now admired its beauty. An ivory-colored satin, the bodice glimmered with every movement and hugged her body to accentuate her curves. The train flowed outwards and cascaded to the floor, parting in the front of the dress to reveal the lace beneath it. The thin chiffon sleeves hung off of her shoulders, giving a glow to her skin and exposing the diamond necklace that rested on her collarbone. Her hair had been pulled upward into twists and curls that spilled forth from underneath her lace veil, and her lips were painted a scarlet red.

These details could not mask the fact that she still had the same, undesirable skin color, but she thought that she was probably as close to the idealistic glowing bride that she could possibly be.

_If my mother and father were alive to share this moment, even if it is bittersweet..._

She closed her eyes and released a long sigh in an attempt to calm her nerves before she finally said that she was ready to leave.

It proved to be a great difficulty to navigate around the house and to the door in the large dress, but with the assistance of Ms. Thorson, they had managed not to tear it on anything. As she reached the door, she noticed her cousin peering at her in the doorway of the sitting room. She could feel her glare, and she stopped in front of her.

Her uncle was nowhere to be seen, but it was just as well, for she had no desire to say her farewell to him. He had never shown her a bit of love or care, in fact; she had felt only as a burden to him, and she was eager to never see him again.

But with Hattie, on the other hand, she would enjoy the moment. Too many times she had watched her younger cousin leave the house to attend balls and gatherings, dressed in attire that Estella could never dream of owning or wearing, and left to never experience the joy of a dance, herself. Too many times she had listened to Hattie's taunting remarks. And though she was never one to be puffed up with pride, she could not help but to gloat a little in the moment.

"It should be _I_ who is to marry him!" she hissed. "You do not deserve a man of his fortune, and it is _I_ who should be esteemed above you!"

For once, Estella tilted her chin and held her head high with a smirk.

"He esteems you so much that you are not even invited to the wedding," she remarked with a grin. "Goodbye Hattie. I will never look back at our memories and say that I should miss you."

And with that, she opened the door and stepped out into the warm morning sun, marking the start of her new life.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thank you for the reviews! More emotion/thought process will be revealed in the next chapter to come. **

Ch. 10

A part of him, though small, had hoped that she would not arrive. Standing in the narrow area where the grass and foliage had parted, Erik found himself waiting for her in both anticipation and fear.

Though approaching Winter, the air was slightly warm and the breeze was soft as the leaves of the trees sighed with its movement. Erik inhaled the crisp, clean air sharply and nearly held his breath as he began to fidget out of nervousness, smoothing the lapel of his typical black waistcoat.

He could not see the small path that wound around to the carriage that he had taken; all that he could see was the sun shining and fluttering in between the tall trees that hid him from the view of the road. To his back, a few yards away, were the waves crashing against the rocks of the sea far below and over the cliff edge and Mr. Matthews, waiting patiently as a witness to the ceremony. His presence and the sound of the ocean was somewhat calming to Erik's nerves, albeit only slightly.

He had chosen this location because of its privacy, though the sight of the vast sea spread out into the horizon had tempted him with its beauty as well. Even if he could not have everything that he had wanted in a wedding-the multitude of guests, the parties and feasts, and a wife who could love him-at least he could control _where_ it was to be held.

He imagined that, if his circumstances had been different, he would have wished to watch the sunset with her over the emerald green and sapphire blue waters, but he immediately chided himself at such sophomoric daydreaming.

He had even expected her refusal to arrive, after all; what woman in her sane mind would agree to become his wife?

And yet, he still found himself waiting for the carriage to bring her to him, with a man who had been afflicted with blindness for his entire life for an officiant. The poor soul could not have been aware of the heinous task that Erik had paid him for-of marrying a beautiful young woman to a hideous beast.

How the Erik from three years ago would have scorned the idea! How had he grown so soft-hearted and weakened, once more? Could he not have left the woman to be, instead of forcing her to marry him? Was his appetite for power and control insatiable?

Erik felt the guilt begin to form in the pit of his stomach as more minutes had passed. What was he doing to her, by forcing her hand in marriage to him? And if she should follow through, then what would he be doing to himself?

His heartbeat sped up once he heard the wheels of a carriage become audible, and he could faintly see it among the foliage, though it only came in glimpses.

Was this the Lady's Maid arriving to tell him that Estella would not come? Had she run away, perhaps with another man?

Erik was fully aware that Estella had been rejected by society, including being undesired in courtship, but he was not ignorant to the fact that she was still a woman of great beauty. Could not a man overlook the color of her skin, in favor of those almond-shaped brown eyes that held such mystery and power? The full lips that taunted him to kiss her as she spoke?

She could not have gone her entire life without having an admirer of some sort! Erik began to fear that he had led himself to believe otherwise; to believe that she had been saved for him, in a sort of way, since the two of them could understand each other, but perhaps he had been mistaken. Perhaps he had interfered with a love affair that had already been happening, and he would be made a fool on his wedding day because of it.

And yet, he saw the glimmer of ivory among the leaves, and he grew so anxious that he almost wished to flee. If she should see him now, waiting for her, what would she think of him? Would she despise him? Would she wish that it was a man with a normal, handsome face who would greet her at the end of the path?

Erik's mind raced with these thoughts of despair when he could hear the footsteps, and despite his apprehension only moments ago, he knew that it was her. He knew that she had arrived. And the fact that she would, indeed, become his wife scared him out of his wits.

Once she had emerged from the thicket of trees, only a short distance away, his breath caught in his throat. He couldn't breathe. He couldn't think. He was paralyzed with both fear and awe.

She was the very vision of a bride; lace and beaded veil, satin ivory gown, and diamond jewels. The sun kissed her skin in a honey-colored glow, and her brown eyes were looking at him as she drew closer-_Him_!-and no one else.

She joined him in front of the officiant, though they did not join hands. Erik did not know the customs of a marriage ceremony, nor did he care to know, but he regretted the fact that there would be no sort of display of affection.

Before it began, he was reminded of what he had been holding behind his back all along, and he drew out a bouquet of flowers to give to her.

Estella had been so nervous and afraid ever since she had stepped into the carriage and left her former home that she had even requested a break on the road a few times, as the nausea had threatened to take hold on multiple occasions. She could feel herself tremble once he had come into view and she saw him watching her, waiting for her.

How her stomach had tied into knots the closer she came to him, and even as she stood beside him, it could not rest. Her mind raced with thoughts, and she was both excited and terrified to the point where she wanted to burst into tears.

But when she had seen the crimson-colored roses with stems wrapped in ivory-colored lace, it had somehow brought her a bit of relief. It was as if the soft red petals had told her that everything would be alright, and that she was strong enough to face whatever her future would hold for her.

She took the bundle of flowers from his hands, her fingers brushing his momentarily. That was when she realized that he wore a pair of black leather gloves, and the fear had again been made foremost in her mind.

Had she ever seen his bare hands? It was not as if she had had an encounter with him often, but the more that she had dwelled on the matter, the more that she realized she had not. What was he hiding, to even cover his own hands? She had never witnessed a gentleman to wear leather gloves, especially not on his own wedding day.

The officiant spoke and the words broke her thoughts, but the way in which her brows had furrowed had not escaped Erik's notice.

Was she having second thoughts? Was she wishing to be anywhere than where she was?

Erik could not help but to become alarmed by the way in which her eyes always seemed to scrutinize him. Was she attempting to figure him out, or was she repulsed by what she saw?

The vows began, and he silenced his mind of these troubling thoughts. If there was one moment in which he should ignore the reality then it should be this one. At least he could look at her, take in her beauty and the fact that she had chosen a gown to wear for him, and to hear her become his wife. Even if there could not be any love in it, this was a moment that he would always remember.

Estella's gaze softened when she noticed the way he had been looking at her. This confusing and mysterious man who had kept his emotions and secrets hidden so well had allowed a bit of it to escape in his eyes. She could see the moment of softness in their hazel-colored depths; she noticed the tenderness and pain as he watched her. She could not look away from him, for this was the only time that she had ever seen him so exposed.

Even if she had been terrified by what secrets he was hiding, even if she did not know him, it brought her comfort to see that he was capable of feeling. Though it was nearly unbearable to look at, for she could see a bit of her own pain mirrored in his eyes, she could not interrupt her gaze.

He had a soul, and he had pain. Perhaps he would not be the terrible husband that she had feared; perhaps he had compassion and gentleness buried within him, under those thick layers of secrecy, avoidance, and aloofness.

Erik broke the gaze to reach into his coat pocket and he drew out her ring, before he repeated the words that would forever intertwine his fate with her's.

Estella lifted up her left hand for him though she shook out of anxiousness, as she watched him place the ring on her finger. It felt odd for her to be touched by gloved hands, but she had been too focused on the details of the ring to notice much.

A round golden-colored diamond with clusters of white diamonds surrounding it sat on a rose-gold band, and when it had been placed on her finger, she was in awe. Certainly she was not one to be taken up with material possessions or to give consequence to fortune, but she had to admire the beauty of it, nonetheless.

Erik placed his own ring in her palm-a simple gold circle-so that she could do the same for him. When she spoke the words aloud, she felt that it was not her voice, but that of another's. It was surreal that she was vowing her life to this man whom she did not know, and yet the two of them seemed to be consumed by the moment.

Estella watched as he removed his left glove, taking in the sight of his bare fingers. How strange that seeing one's bare skin could evoke such a feeling of intimacy, as if he were momentarily allowing himself to be susceptible to her.

She carefully slid the ring onto his finger and Erik let out a shaky sigh. He never would have imagined that feeling her hands on his would create such a reaction from him, and the sensation of a wedding ring on his finger felt both strange and exciting.

Once they had been pronounced husband and wife, Erik lifted his gaze from her and set it to the horizon. He was too overwhelmed with emotion to maintain his composure much longer, and the fact that the two of them would not even share in a kiss was unbearable.

Estella was somewhat surprised that he did not kiss her, and for some unknown reason that she chastised herself mentally for, she was a bit disappointed.

He appeared to be struggling with something, but as quickly as he returned his stare at her, the expression had faded. He had successfully returned to the stoic and emotionless man whom she had been acquainted with.

The view of the waters had been wonderful, and Estella was sad to leave it. Now that she was married, she knew that her new husband would wish to return to his estate, and she feared of what would transpire upon arriving there.

Before they left, however; the man who had wed them requested that they sign the documents that stated that they were legally married. Estella signed her maiden name, letting the reality sink in that it would be the last time in which she would be known as _Estella Crawley._

Erik thanked the man and gave him a bit of extra money before their departure, thankful that the ceremony had gone smoothly, before they left.

In the carriage during the one-hour journey back to his estate, Erik remained silent and focused his gaze out of the window as he watched the tall grass and passing of trees. Estella observed his demeanor, deciding that perhaps it was not the mask on his face that she should be fearful of. This man was far better at hiding both his identity and thoughts than any other, and she dreaded discovering the reason why this was.

The silence was suffocating, and she found that she had to make conversation with him. He was her husband, now, and she knew that she could not avoid him entirely.

"Are we to travel?" she asked out of curiosity.

She was aware that it was customary for a newly-wed couple to take a vacation together after the ceremony for a bit, in order to have the time alone necessary to become better acquainted with each other.

Erik did not look at her, wishing that the reality could have been different from his response.

"No; I thought that you might value the time to become better acquainted with your new home."

It was not entirely a lie, though the real reason behind their returning home had been because Erik knew that she could not possibly wish to spend time alone with him. Simply the thought of it was torture to himself, even if in a different way than her's, and he would not force his presence upon her.

Estella wondered why he did not wish to spend time with her as her husband, but she spoke no more on the matter. Instead, she asked a question that had been nagging her mind since the day that she had become aware of his existence.

"If I may ask, what is it that you and my uncle do as a profession?"

She asked in the most polite and pleasant voice that she could muster, hoping not to anger her new husband with her curiosity. She did not know of his character just yet, and so she felt that she had to be mindful of her behavior until it was a certainty.

"We design and construct buildings, that is to say; your uncle procures the requests and handles the financial aspects, while I design the structures," he replied.

Estella raised a brow at him in surprise, and he caught the gesture out of the corner of his eye.

"You are an Architect?"

He gave a small smile of satisfaction.

"I'd like to think of myself as such, though at times I question it, myself."

Estella was again surprised at his humility, for she imagined that any other man would have taken the opportunity to boast about his talent, yet instead he seemed almost shy of compliments or attention.

"Well, it makes sense. My uncle has never had a creative bone in his body," she replied. _Nor a kind one, at that, _she thought bitterly. And of course it was not unlike him to make money and gain off of someone else's talents_. _"Have you always wanted to be one?"

Erik looked down at his leathered hands, twisting the ring around his finger underneath as he thought of a proper response.

"I have designed rooms and structures for a long time, but it has not always been the focus of my life," he admitted.

Estella wondered what it was that he had meant by his words, and her curiosity was left unsatisfied as she imagined what he could have spent his time on in previous years.

"Recently, I have considered giving up the profession in favor of traveling, but now I am not so certain," he added.

He chided himself mentally for divulging more information about himself than necessary, for he was certain that she did not have a genuine interest in his thoughts or feelings. Of course she was only being polite and making light conversation, though he found it difficult not to have the desire to confide his thoughts in her, anyway.

Estella could not prevent the smile that cracked on her lips as she remembered the fond musings of her younger years.

"I have always wanted to travel," she said, remembering the time when her father and mother had promised that the three of them would see the world together.

"Anywhere in particular?" he asked, enjoying the fact that the conversation seemed to be flowing much more easily than previous encounters. Maybe, just maybe, it was a sign that they could be friends, though he dare not hope just yet.

"I would love to see the countryside of Italy and the Mediterranean. Perhaps visit a few vineyards and view the sunset among the rolling hills," she replied, temporarily transporting herself there in her imagination.

Erik noted the singsong tone of her voice and the smile that brought warmth to her visage, and he too could not help but to smile.

"But I am not particular. When one has been caged all of one's life, then anywhere is better than nowhere," she added.

Erik thought back to his own experiences. He knew very well what it was like to live in a cage, even literally, as painful as it was to remember. Even during his time at the Opera Populaire he had been forced to hide himself in the cellars. And while he had, at times, valued his privacy and solitude, he could not deny that if he had been given another choice, he would have taken it. It had been a life of loneliness, and isolation had not been kind to his wounded soul.

Had he been born with a normal face, he would have lived among the sunlight, as others had. Even in his spare time, he would often escape somewhere alone to enjoy the fresh air. That was why he had chosen an estate with a vast amount of land and trees, so that he could have his privacy but still retain the ability to enjoy his surroundings.

When he had been smothered by the cold and damp air of the cellars for so long, he later discovered the warmth of the sun upon his skin to be a blessing, and it was something that he never wished to live without.

"Yes, it is," he replied softly.

Once they had arrived at the estate, with Mr. Matthews and Marguerite Thorson in tow, Erik stepped out first and assisted his new wife out of the carriage. Estella noticed the strange sensation of grasping a gloved hand once more, wondering if he would always wear them in her presence.

She bit her lip as they went inside, fearing that now was the time when he would show her his true colors. Now he would demand for his husbandly rights, and he would not be kind about it.

But instead, Erik silently led her up the staircase to their right, and she remembered them to be leading to where he had said her room would be. And once he had shown her the door that would open to her quarters, she was surprised to discover that, so far, he had been keeping his word.

He dismissed himself at the door, allowing her time to change clothes and become acclimated to her new surroundings, and he disappeared before she could say another word.

Sighing, she turned around and found herself face-to-face with a cherry-oak door, and it was then that she realized how truly exhausted and even hungry she was. It was not even the evening yet, but the events during the day had proven to demand a lot out of her.

When she opened the door to her room, she was amazed at its beauty. Light blue-colored walls greeted her, along with a beautiful grey-stone fireplace. Two chairs of blue and ivory floral patterns sat beside the lighted fire, and a golden four-post bed sat across. Adorned in sapphire-blue brocade silk draperies and gold tassles, the bed with ivory-colored bed-sheets looked welcoming to her.

On a bench in front of the bed there was a new dress laid out for her, and Marguerite Thorson called upon her to let her know that she would be pleased to assist her with changing her attire or anything else that she should wish for.

Estella insisted that she could dress herself, though she found the corset a bit difficult to manage. In the end, Marguerite assisted her and assured her that there was no trouble at all in fulfilling her duties as a Lady's Maid after Estella had apologized for seeming so dependent. She was still unaccustomed to the use of a Lady's Maid and felt it highly unnecessary, though she was grateful, anyway.

Then she was left to her own devices and she took in the rest of the room. A large golden mirror hung above the fireplace, wood nightstands with oil lamps beside the bed, a vanity and a large armoire in the corners that held multiple new dresses, and teal and gold draperies of silk hung on the two large windows in the room.

It was certainly much larger and more elegant than her previous living provisions, but she still could not erase the shock that had consumed her upon realizing that she truly would not share a room with her new husband, as she was left alone in the room.

Perhaps she truly was undesirable?


	11. Chapter 11

**Yes, I am still alive! I have been working on this chapter a little each day, but suffered from Writer's Block and couldn't find the words to write. I even re-wrote it a few times, but finally decided to sit down and not do anything else today until I had finished this chapter. I think that my Writer's Block is beginning to pass, but sorry for the delay!**

Ch. 11

Erik stared in despair at the shining band of gold that now rested on his third left finger, still unaccustomed to the sensation of it.

The entirety of the afternoon had passed since his marriage had been made official, and he still felt the remorse that had filled the pit of his stomach ever since their vows had been spoken. Though he had not spoken to her since their arrival at his estate as husband and wife, simply the thought of her presence in the house was enough to set his nerves on edge, even if she was residing in the opposite end of the property.

If only his face was normal! What joys he would be sharing in having the company of his wife! Instead, half-past midnight found him locked away in his bedroom quarters as he leaned against the stone mantle of his fireplace and watched the orange and red flames lick the confines of its inward borders.

Though it had not been in his habit to take to drink, he found that his dark thoughts that had enveloped his mind that night had forced his hand to it, and he swallowed the remainder of the amber-colored liquid in his crystal glass before he set it to rest on top of the mantle. He felt the effects begin to take hold of him, clouding his judgement and weighing his mind down with both fatigue and relief.

This time, however; he was waging a war within himself as his memories pulled him back to the realm of anguish and misery. The flames of the fire danced within the green of his eyes as they glazed over with emotion.

His mind drifted to wonder what Christine would have been doing that night if he had forced her to marry him, long ago. The image of the dress that he had chosen for her to wear, and how she had fainted upon seeing it, was something that he felt he would never be free of.

After sorting through the broken remnants of his haunting past, he was left with one question; had she been repulsed at the thought of becoming his bride, or had she lost consciousness out of shock?

Regardless of why she had behaved the way she had, he could not imagine that his wedding night would have turned out much differently, had it been Christine who was his wife. He could not rid himself of the inclination that it would have been worse, and that she probably would have been cowering in fear of him and_ choosing _to lock herself in a room far away from him, instead of Estella, who had been given no choice in her sleeping arrangements.

He wondered if his wife was now mourning the freedom of her formerly unmarried state, and he even began to wish that he had never forced her hand to his. Had he locked the shackles to her new cage, and made her wish to return to her uncle's estate, as cruel as it was? As repressing and abusive as her household had been for the majority of her years, at least she had not been made to wed a monster!

But a small voice of reasoning in his head that he had so often ignored told him that it could not have entirely been such a terrible deed, for he would never have treated her that way.

_John is a monster that I could never be, _he attempted to reassure himself.

It was himself who deserved the injustice and suffering brought upon him; it was _he_ who should have been cast aside and dismissed as unnatural alone! He had the face that terrorized many, and his flaws could not be overlooked, like hers could be. _He_ should have been made to live his days alone, not her.

He would never treat her in the way in which he had been scorned, and she had not deserved it all of her life.

_Curse this affliction which taints what is mine!_ he was reminded of his own miserableness. He pounded his fist against the stone wall out of anger and ignored the pain that ached through his fingers from the contact.

He had gone against his vow to never become vulnerable. He had promised himself that he would never show weakness again. And he had violated his own wishes by making Estella his wife.

She was not only a prisoner in his home just as he was, but she was also a reminder of what could never be.

* * *

><p>Estella's body was like a tempest beneath her bed-sheets as she tossed and turned constantly throughout the night, finding that the thoughts that troubled her mind prevented her from getting much, if any, sleep.<p>

Rest would come to her in brief intervals of time, only to be interrupted as she jolted awake on multiple occasions. The fear of what might happen had permeated her mind, so much so that at times she was left staring at her closed door once she had been awake long enough for her eyes to have adjusted to the darkness.

Even though she knew that she had locked the door, it had not kept her from remaining alert as she hugged the soft sheets of her bed closely to her chest.

At any moment, she expected Mr. Destler to call upon her in the night. After all, she had had strong doubts that her husband would not wish to claim what was his, especially on his wedding night, and while he had told her otherwise, she had great difficulty in believing it.

Her mind seemed to be teetering between the idea of him taking what was his from her and being undesirable to him when he did not appear. She could not be certain of which scenario was worse.

Yet, she was anticipating his presence with great anxiety and had grown fearful of what he might expect from her. How was she to permit a man to take away what little dignity that she had left, even if she was his wife by law? How was it acceptable to be forced into something so intimate with a stranger?

It must have been well into the night before she had finally closed her eyes once more, remembering the sight of the moonlight streaming through her window.

* * *

><p>Estella found it rather odd at first when not a word had been spoken to her during the first two days of her presence at her new home. She had been relieved to be left alone, even taking the liberty of perusing the grounds to become better acquainted with her surroundings, and, once she had set her eyes upon the courtyard and the blue waters of the lake, she had determined to spend as much of her time out of doors as possible before the cold weather would drive her to return inside.<p>

But after five days of hearing nothing, without even so much as catching a glimpse of her husband, she had grown both anxious and worried.

This was beyond the amount of time necessary to give her space, if that had been his motive for silencing himself. Not only had his secretiveness worried her from the very beginning of meeting him, but what normal husband did not even acknowledge the presence of his new wife in his own home?

The thought that, perhaps, something tragic had befallen him had even crossed her mind, and she decided to ignore the protests in her head about crossing the hallway and ascending the staircase that led to his private rooms.

At first, the voice in her head had been loud and clear, warning her that she should not invite the wrath of the man whom she had not a clue about in regards to his character. She did not know what he would do or what he was capable of-violence, probably, but to what extent?

It had even been strong enough to cause her to hesitate at the base of the stairs with her hand barely touching the railing. But then she began to reason with herself, telling herself that she had every right to see every inch of the home that now belonged to her as well. Even when she felt it wrong to conceive such headstrong and rebellious motives, she assured herself with the innocence of checking upon her husband's condition. Perhaps he had been ill? Certainly there was no harm in asking him if he was alright, and the idea had successfully repressed any second thoughts that she had once entertained.

It seemed as if the day would have other plans for her, however; shortly after walking down a hallway that she thought might lead to his bedchamber, she was interrupted by the head butler.

"Is there something the matter, M'Lady?"

Estella stopped abruptly, few feet away from the door that she had been determined to open. She immediately felt guilt consume her, feeling akin to what a child would feel when caught doing something naughty. Slowly, she turned around to look at the aging man with a pleasant smile on her face to diminish the appearance of her disobedient behavior.

"Not at all. I was simply wondering if Mr. Destler has gone away somewhere," she replied.

The only human interaction that she had had as-of-late had been that of her lady's maid, though being asked what attire she would wish to wear or what activities she would like to partake in for the day could hardly be called conversation. Still, she had begun to grow quite fond of Marguerite, nonetheless.

"Not that I am aware of, M'Lady," Mr. Matthews replied.

Estella nodded her head in acknowledgement, though the confirmation of her suspicions did not ease her mind.

If Mr. Destler had not taken a leave of absence from the estate, then that must have meant that he had been avoiding her. The possibility that he could have been preoccupied with business matters had crossed her mind, but it was quickly dispelled by the realization that, if he could set aside the time necessary to plan and participate in his wedding, he could most certainly find the time to greet her.

And the idea that he was avoiding her intentionally only increased the fears that she had entertained about him, and she wondered what he could possibly be hiding from her more than before.

Mention not the fact that she felt even less of a human being from the lack of socialization! Was she really such a burden that he could not even visit her, and if so, then why had he taken it upon himself to marry her?

"I see," she said. "It is just that I have neither heard from, nor seen, him this week."

Mr. Matthews hesitated to reply, though he was fully aware that his master had kept to himself, just as was typical in his character. He noticed the slightly saddened expression on her face, though he did not know her very well.

"Do not blame yourself, M'Lady; Mr. Destler has always been accustomed to the ways of quietness and solitude. I am certain that he will need some time to adjust to his newly-married state, and all will be well soon enough."

"Yes, of course," Estella glanced down at the floor in embarrassment. How desperate she must have looked to have been seeking the company of a strange man whom she did not know and who clearly had wanted nothing to do with her!

But she could not help but to allow a bit of curiosity to consume her, and she asked, "What is he like? Does he ever hold any gatherings or host parties? Should I expect any guests?"

Those questions had only scratched the surface of what she wished to know about him, though she would not overwhelm the servants with all of them at one time.

Mr. Matthews kept his gloved hands folded behind his back out of respect, though he was eager to resume his duties for the day.

"Entertaining is not much of a common occurrence in this house. The Master is a very kind and generous man; I think that the only time in which I have ever seen him agitated was due to the rudeness of a few servants, though he had every right to dismiss them from his employment."

Estella was hardly surprised to hear that no guests or parties would be had in her home, and even a bit disappointed. And when she heard the part about the rudeness of a few employees, she wondered what their reasons had been.

"Does his lack of hospitality have something to do with his mask?"

Mr. Matthews felt himself grow uncomfortable by the subject that had just been breached, and he knew that one wrong word could throw the conversation in a direction that he did not wish to follow.

"Possibly," was all that he said, but it was not a satisfying answer for Estella.

"Why does he wear it?" she insisted. She could see his reluctance, and so she added, "I am certain that you can imagine how alarming it is to see a man wearing a mask, behaving with such secrecy and seclusion, and avoiding the association of others, can you not? He is my husband, and I simply wish to know him better."

"Mr. Destler has always preferred his privacy, and as his servant, I have no right to know or question his motives. I am afraid that I do not have the answers to your inquiries."

Estella could see that he wished to dismiss himself, and so she did not pursue the conversation further. Instead, she decided that she would approach the door behind her, anyway. After all, was she not also the owner of the house, and should she be denied access to any part of it?

Before she even had the chance to knock on the door, her hand hovering inches from the dark cherry-colored wood, she found that Mr. Matthews had not left after all, instead; he had been watching her every move.

"Mr. Destler has expressed his wish to remain undisturbed for the time-being, M'Lady. Might you care for a cup of tea among the gardens? I hear that the weather is warmer than it has been," he suggested, hoping that she would not defy his employer's orders.

Estella's hand dropped to her side in cooperation, though she had become thoroughly irritated by the instructions not to disturb her own husband. She was his wife; did she not have the right to see him? Was she to be kept in the dark about the affairs of the man whom she had just sworn her life to? Was she to remain in her loneliness, slowly losing her sanity from the lack of companionship?

Still, with a forced smile, she decided to play the part of an obedient wife, though every part of her was against it.

"But of course."

"Marguerite," Estella caught the attention of her lady's maid, who had just pulled out a nightgown and robe for her to wear and had rested it on the bench at the end of her bed. Estella sat on the edge of her bed, watching the servant's activities for the past few minutes.

Marguerite straightened up and looked at her, smoothing the plain dark frock and white apron that she wore.

"Do you know anything about Mr. Destler-about his character or his past?"

"I am afraid not, M'Lady. I have only been here for a few years, but I've hardly spoken to him," Marguerite replied humbly.

Estella had not expected to get any information out of her, though she had hoped. Instead, she changed into her nightwear, blew out the candles and turned down the oil lamps in preparation for the closure of the day. It was already quite dark outside, and she found that somehow the lack of activities throughout the day had made her feel lethargic and ready to sleep.

But as she climbed into her bed and sighed in relaxation from the softness of her sheets, she could only think of one thing.

Come morning, she would find Mr. Destler, and she would not let anything, or anyone, stop her.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thank you so much Filhound, marial0789, Nami Swann, MarilynKC, FantomPhan33, michellecarriveau, and CateyesAbbey for your faithful reviews! Thank you for being consistent and loyal!**

**I will try to work on shortening your waiting time, and this week should be less busy for me. **

**If you haven't already done so, please leave a review (even if it's only one word), so that I know how you like the story.**

Ch. 12

It was well into the evening before Estella was to be seen returning to Erik's private wing. She had searched nearly every room of the estate to no avail, for she could not find him.

Frustrated, she had taken her meals in her own room and tea in the garden, though the weather had not been kind to her and the day had not been enjoyable. She had even asked the servants as to the whereabouts of her husband, but had not received a satisfying response, which had subjected her to an unnatural look of pouting and disappointed wandering throughout the day. What husband would completely ignore his wife, not even willing to hold a conversation with her?

The loneliness of her new home was a bit overwhelming. Of course it had not been out-of-the-ordinary for her not to have friends when she had lived with her uncle, but at least then she had not been completely devoid of associations! At least she could observe the events and habits of her cousin and uncle, even if she was excluded, and though they had not spoken kind words to her, at least it had been a form of socialization!

Though she had not believed Mr. Destler when he had told her that he wished to be friends and to share in each other's difficulties, she had still developed hope-as small as it was-that perhaps he was a good man, after all. Perhaps she would truly have a friend or form of companionship.

Instead, she was left wandering the halls aimlessly, with no one except for her lady's maid to keep her company. But the friendship of Marguerite had not been enough to satisfy her social and emotional needs, for she was only a servant and did not always have the time or right to converse with her unnecessarily.

And though her instincts had told her that Mr. Destler would most likely be occupying one of his private rooms, she had decided to save those places for last. After all, she was not quite certain as to how, exactly, he would react to her disturbing him.

Meanwhile, Erik was staring down the ivory-colored keys of his piano in silence. Though not a single window could be found in the the music room that was adjacent to his sleeping-quarters, he knew that it was the beginning of nightfall, and he frowned at the thick layer of dust that had collected on his instument.

How he had abandoned his passion for music, how it had burned along with the walls of the Opera Populaire! Though at times it seemed as if its embers would suddenly awaken, he had been quick to water-down the flames that threatened to burst inside of him. It hurt too much to be reminded of the time when he had shared the bond of music with Christine, and he simply could not relive the heartache through his music. How could he even think to write an opera, when it reminded him so much of his former home?

But how guilty he had felt for abandoning his one true amour; how much his fingertips ached when hovering above the keys, yearning to feel the release that only a melody could bring to him!

With a deep breath, he blew off the collected dust and wiped down as much as he could, until the instrument looked as if it had been used frequently instead of neglected. Then, he sat again in silence and allowed the thoughts of beginning to play to linger in his mind, though his hands remained folded in his lap.

The urge to pour out his heart and life into his music had increased since his marriage to Estella, even growing to become stifling to his very soul. She had awakened in him the emotions that he had wished to forget, and she reminded him of how miserable he had been, was, and would continue to be.

Erik rested his elbows on top of the piano and held his head in his hands. He wanted so badly to reacquaint himself with the sound of his music once more, yet he could not prevent the fear that he had of the pain that it would cause.

He did not know how long he sat there, watching the candlelight flicker across the keys, seeming to taunt him, dare him to play them. But he couldn't. Not yet.

When he heard a noise eminate from his bedroom, he turned his head to listen carefully. Then he noticed the shadow flicker across the floor as it slipped through the crack at the bottom of his closed door, and he knew that he was not alone.

Only moments earlier, Estella had been standing in front of the door that led to Mr. Destler's room, contemplating whether or not she should knock. A part of her was beginning to have second thoughts about seeking out his company, and the rest of her felt that he probably would not answer his door, anyway.

And so she did something that was terribly out-of-character, even for her; she slowly clasped the cold knob in her right hand and turned it ever-so-slightly to see if it was locked. Much to her surprise and even concern, it had not been.

Her heart began to pound as she opened the door with reckless abandon, knowing in the back of her mind that it was wrong, yet feeling the rush of adrenaline from her impulsive behavior.

Even in her excitement and fear, she could not silence the voice in her head that nagged her to stop, before it was too late. If he had discovered her sneaking about and violating his privacy, then certainly it would be to her harm.

She made certain to open the door slowly, so as not to make a sound, and she even breathed a small sigh of relief when the room did not seem to be occupied.

_I should turn back, now, before he sees me!_ she thought to herself. _I should not take a single step into his room-_

But she had already done it; she had stepped into his room without hesitation, and this newfound boldness was both exhilarating and dangerous. She closed the door behind herself, though she knew that it would do little to protect her from the consequences if she was to be seen.

Once she had turned around and had more time to observe her surroundings, she found it odd that every candle inside of the room had been lit, and she feared that she might not have been out of danger, after all. But she hesitated and listened, finding that not even the shuffling of papers or a sigh could be heard, and she decided that he must have been gone for the moment.

She should have left that instant, before he would return, but instead she found herself being pulled further into the room by her overwhelming curiosity and unanswered questions, though she knew that it was this very same curiosity that would most likely lead to her demise.

But how could she refuse the opportunity to learn more about him? She was thirsty for the knowledge, parched from the lack of conversation and information. She had to discover what it was that he was hiding and who he was-after all, she was living with this man!

His room was so well-designed that she had to admire the details of it all. Surrounding her were stone walls with shelves upon shelves of various books and literature; the room was circular with a small stone staircase ahead of her, with ivory-colored columns and gold marbled throughout, and upon each step were clusters of candles on each side. It was as if the glowing decor was parting for her to reach those stairs and discover what was at the top of them.

The appearance of it all made her feel as if she had been transported into an exotic palace, and she almost couldn't believe that it was located in the very same house that she had occupied during the past week.

She hesitated for a few moments before placing her foot on the first step, wondering if she would find him at the top. She could not see exactly what was there, but she knew that it was an elevated room that probably contained his bed, and the thought made her feel the guilt of what she was doing by invading his privacy.

Still, she had come too far to turn back, and so she forced herself up the stairs, glancing up to notice the tall vaulted ceilings and gasping when she saw the painted night sky above. It was as if she was outside among the ruins of a roman palace, glancing up at the actual stars themselves, and she began to develop an admiration for the taste of this husband of her's.

Once at the top, she noticed the large stone fireplace and how it was lit, even appearing to have been stoked recently, but she was too awestruck to think anything of it. It was as if the room had cast a spell on her, and it was a beautiful one that she did not wish to break.

A large four-post bed sat along the far wall, with golden posts carved with vines and roses that reached toward the ceiling; golden silk bedsheets looked so luxuriously welcoming, and the black lace draperies gave an appearance of elegance.

There were no windows in the room, she noticed, but the various candlabras throughout were more than enough to provide ample light so that she could see, and she walked over to the desk that sat to her left.

Before she had reached it, however; her left foot caught on the leg of the desk, and she lurched forward. Though she had caught herself before she could cause more damage than a sore toe, she knew that the sound had been louder than she would have wanted.

She quickly glanced around the room but saw no one there, and she breathed a sigh of relief. What her husband would think of her if he caught her in his room and looking through his personal possessions! Perhaps he might even murder her in that very room!

How wrong it had felt for her eyes to scan the contents and various papers across that desk, but she was grateful to at least have learned a few things about him by means of this-he had been telling the truth about his occupation, as she noted the various sketches and designs of architecture, also noting that he appeared to have an eye for every little detail. She could imagine him sitting at this desk, scribbling and throwing away sheets of paper for hours on end, until he was satisfied with his work, with the scattered torn pieces that laid about.

And then she noticed the tattered sheets that had been crammed into a small shelf, and despite herself, she pulled them out to see the smeared ink of musical notes. They appeared to be sheetmusic that had been left unfinished, and she recognized both the shade of ink and the letters to be the same as Mr. Destler's architectural papers when comparing them.

She had never thought him to be a man of music, though it might have explained his desire for theatricality (after all, what normal man slept in a romanesque palace fit for a King, always dressed in fine attire, and wore a mask to cover his face?).

Suddenly the desire to hear his music took hold of her, and she almost regretted her discovery. She could not imagine that such a secretive and isolated man would wish to share anything personal with her, much less his music, and it was a bit of a disappointment to think that she would never be able to hear it. After all, if it was anything like his architectural designs, then she was certain that it would be something worth hearing.

She stuffed the papers back into the shelf, positioning them carefully so that they would not look different than when she had found them.

But as she drew her hand back and stood up straight, she felt a pair of eyes burning through her as they watched her every move, and she did not need to turn around to know to whom they belonged.

"What makes you think that you have the right to be in here?" his low voice growled.

She bit her lip, her heart pounding wildly in her own ears, as she slowly turned around to meet those hazel-colored eyes.

Instead of being gentle and pained, they were burning with an intense anger that she had not seen before.


	13. Chapter 13

Ch. 13

Erik had watched her silently for a few moments before he had made his presence known, his fierce gaze focused on her as she had been shuffling through his papers on his desk. They were unfinished scores that were meant for no one to see, and watching her boldness as she invaded his privacy had caused anger to take hold of him.

He was outraged! How dare she have the audacity to enter his room and lay hands upon his personal possessions!

It reminded him of the time when Christine had been so bold as to lay her hand on his mask as he played his music for her beside the lake. How manipulative she had been, soothing him with her voice and touching his face with her gentle hands, only to have intended to rip away his mask!

"Did you think that I would not see you?" he asked through gritted teeth.

He balled his hands into fists at his sides and revealed himself from among the shadows of the corner of the room, taking a few deliberate strides to close the distance between the two of them.

Estella was startled by his presence, and she was confused as to where he had come from, for she had not seen him enter through the hidden door of his music room. Now feeling the full effect of her foolish actions, she felt herself blush profoundly and even grow fearful under his hateful gaze.

"I-I was only looking for you-" she stuttered.

Though she had previously shown courage and even daringly-bold behavior in front of this man, she now felt the fear of what he might do to her.

She had clearly disobeyed his precise instructions not to enter into his territory, even having the rest of the house in its entirety to herself, and yet she had so arrogantly violated his wishes. She was certain that a man with as many secrets as he would not take her behavior lightly.

"And you thought that you would be successful by traipsing around places in which you do not belong?" he questioned in a voice that sounded akin to a growl.

Estella felt herself shrink beneath his glowering gaze, and she nearly tripped over a chair as she attempted to widen the distance between the two of them. Instead, she had only managed to bump into the furniture as she watched him mimick each step that she took, drawing closer to her until she could feel the bare wall against her back.

She felt like she was the prey that had been trapped in a corner by a predator that slowly closed in on her, stalking her with what she would expect would be a wicked grin. But in place of a smirk or any sort of look of amusement was a genuine expression of fury, and she knew that he would not be one to revel in her punishment.

No, there would be no kind of twisted torture inflicted upon her-she would have to face his serious temper, and she did not know for certain how far that would extend.

"I'm sorry! I never should have-"

"Next time, will it be what is beneath my mask that you seek? Are you going to wish to tear it away from my face?" he yelled.

Estella winced from the fierceness of his voice, and it was a gesture that did not go unnoticed by Erik, which had only seemed to make matters worse.

"You may be my wife, but I will not allow your inane curiosities to continue! I know what your kind is like, and I refuse to succumb to your deciept!"

"I had no such intentions!" she defended herself.

Though she could not imagine what lay beneath his mask and what, exactly, he was hiding, she would never wish for him to think her as manipulative, for it was not in her nature to be so.

Erik felt his jaw tighten and the overwhelming urge to strike something, though it would never be her. Even if she had turned out to be no better than Christine-provoking his temper by her curiosity and having a fear for him that made him feel less than human-she would never deserve physical abuse.

He knew what it was like to be tortured emotionally and physically, and it was something that he would never wish upon anyone else, especially the woman who could come closest to understanding his own feelings.

How he had misjudged her character! How he had fooled himself into thinking that she was different, when she was clearly not exempt from the prying curiosity and manipulative behavior of everyone else!

"I didn't mean to upset you..."

Erik was so blinded by his fury that he did not listen to what she was saying, instead; he inched his way closer until he was towering above her.

"I will not be blinded by your snares once more! You will not fool me!" he shouted.

Estella turned her head to the side so that she would not be forced to look at him as the tears formed in her eyes and threatened to fall. She took a deep but silent breath in order to calm her nerves, though she could feel the temptation to flee from him agitate her feet. She tried her best to remain still, but her mind was taken elsewhere.

The last time in which she had felt these feelings were years ago, and she mentally berated herself at the fact that they had not disappeared entirely. Would her new husband forever be the reminder of them? Would he be just as any other man she had known?

How changed he was since she had first met him! She could not imagine that the generous and compassionate man who had supposedly married her in order to save her from pitiful circumstances had now become this angry madman before her.

And yet, she could not completely blame him, after all; she had brought it upon herself.

"Please forgive me!" she breathed. "I will leave at once!"

Before she had allowed him the time to respond, she darted into the remaining space between the two of them and turned the corner, where she knew the staircase would be. She did not look back-she couldn't stand to see the expression on his face without falling apart-and she willed her legs not to stop as she ran down each step and out of the door.

Erik was in such a rage that he neither bothered to chase after her nor locked his door, instead; he stormed into his music room and paced back and forth briefly before he sat himself down at his pianoforte with force. It was the only thing that he could do to prevent himself from chasing after her and doing something that he would regret.

He had not even bothered to close the inner door, for all that he could think about was the pain and anguish that he felt-the very same pain that had ignited the adrenaline in his veins and forced his hands to touch the ivory keys.

This was the emotion he had felt which had urged his release through the sound of his music, yet had not inspired him enough to fulfill it. This time, however; he felt the full force of his memories flood his mind, and he was helpless to stop it.

Even after so long, his fingers so easily danced over the keys-a bit roughly, at first, but he did not stop. He could not stop.

His fingers told the story of the scarlet tassles that hung about the dancers' hips as they fluttered about the stage, the crimson velvet curtains that slowly concealed the platform as each production drew to a close, the golden rails of the grand staircases and statues.

The piano sung the song of the night in which the audience had first heard Ms. Daae sing; how her cream-colored dress had glistened under the light and her long brown curls had cascaded down her back as her angelic voice had transported him into another world from beneath the floors.

The dancing, the swaying, the laughter that had filled the world above and had made him wish to be a part of it; how long he had watched the guests and merriment from the confines of his prison!

And then...Christine had followed him through the dark and dreary passageways, even taking his hand, as he led her to the place in which he hoped she would reside with him. How her large brown eyes had taken in the very sight of the place in which he had called 'Home'; how her lips had parted at the splendor of the candlelight!

Erik closed his eyes and continued to play, and he could remember everything about her. His thoughts were translated into the soft notes of a song foreign to his ears, but he could not refrain from letting it continue, for it seemed to be pouring from his very soul.

And after he had allowed himself to dwell on the softness of her hair and the glow to her complexion, he remembered what it was about her that still twisted the knife deep into his heart.

His fingers ran a bit faster and the music picked up an angry speed about it as he felt the jealousy, animosity, and betrayal all over again. He watched her run into the arms of the Vicomte once more from behind his eyelids. He could remember the defeat as he crushed the crimson petals of the rose that was meant for her on the rooftop; how icy the air had been and cold the snow was, yet not as frigid as his heart had become.

He had been desperate; he had vowed to make her his. He would not give up without a fight-he couldn't!

She had wrapped him around her finger, trained him to answer her every call. He would have given her his life if she would have asked for it!

And oh, the deception! How she had humiliated him in front of the eyes of many by ripping off his mask and stripping him of the last shred of dignity that he had maintained, when not moments prior she had been singing a song of passion and romance to him, and he was certain that it had been meant for him alone. How treacherous she was to give him hope, only to violently tear it away from him!

He would not let it happen again, if it took his final dying breath to prevent it!

The night had proven to resemble the night in which Christine had allowed her curiosity to trace the edge of his mask, and he would not be so naive as to let it continue. Though Estella had only sorted through the papers on his desk, he would not let her test his patience another time.

And yet, though he was not making the same mistakes over again, he felt that he was making entirely new ones. He was entering into a territory that was both foreign and unwanted. He had wed himself to a woman whom he hardly knew, only to find out that she was yet another person who would betray his trust and held a fear for him that would haunt him in his dreams.

He could not forget the look of terror in her eyes right before she had looked away from him. Of course he would frighten her; how could he think otherwise? How could he ever think that someone would treat him as if he was a man?

The music came to an abrupt halt and he propped his elbows atop of the instrument and buried his head in his hands.

How much less of a man he felt as the tears began to flow.

Moments earlier, Estella had stopped after leaving his bedroom in order to catch her breath, and though she was only few feet away from it, she had hid herself well behind a nearby decorative column. If he was to follow her, then she most certainly was allowing him enough time to find her again, much to her terrified realization.

But a part of her felt that he would not, and with shaking hands, she attempted to assure herself that she was safe, though she would not feel it until she reached her room and had locked the door.

Before she had left, however; the sound of music startled her. Though faint, she strained her ears to hear that it was eminating from the room that she had just left, and she remained behind the safety of the column to listen.

At first it was hesitant and strange, but even to the untrained ear it had an air of superiority to it. But then she was taken aback by the beauty of it as it grew louder and more confident. It was as if something had been awakened inside of that room, and she knew that she could not turn away at that moment.

She had neither heard nor felt another person's pain before, but it made the tears trail down her face. She could feel everything that he was thinking and remembering, and the fear that she had held for him only moments ago had now dissipated.

She was not certain how long she sat on the floor with her knees to her chest and her back to the cold marble of the wall beside her. How pathetic and odd she must have looked if found sitting beside his bedroom door, yet she could not force herself to leave. She could not leave him.

The notes spoke of suffering and even as she drifted to sleep she could hear them mourning, pining after something unattainable and beautiful. Her eyes slowly closed and their sound haunted her as she gave herself to the sleep that overtook her, assuring her that its company would take away the pain of that night. Tomorrow would be a new day, and she could forget the mistakes that she had made.

But she would never forget his music.


	14. Chapter 14

**Surprise! I felt inspired and had the time to write another chapter today. And it is also a long one.**

**Please let me know whether or not you like me posting so soon, and many thanks to those who already have!**

Ch. 14

It was a little after midnight before Erik had stopped violently playing his pianoforte, and he inhaled sharply and attempted to rub the fatigue from his face, but to no avail. Upon feeling the coldness of his mask, he was reminded of the cumbersome article that he was forced to wear and it did not improve his already-agitated mood.

His eyes burned profusely and he could hardly keep them open for long without feeling the overwhelming urge to close them once more, and the flickering dim lighting of the few candles that had survived the night had only proven to urge him toward his bed.

He stood up and stretched a bit, finding that his back had become stiff and his shoulders tense. After running his fingers through his dark hair and sighing with exhaustion, he made his way into his sleeping quarters, noticing how sore the tips of his fingers and the muscles in his hands had become. How long it had been since he had played music, and his aching body was determined to remind him of it.

He could not, however, make it to his bed, for his attention was directed towards his door, where he could see the poor lighting of the remaining oil lamps in the hallway that streamed in through the open space.

The fact that he had not closed it had reminded him of what had transpired earlier that night, and he mentally chided himself for not locking himself in his room so that he would not have been disturbed. Muttering curses under his breath, he determined not to repeat that error, and though his legs felt weak and his mind too tired to comprehend what he was doing, he was already moving closer to the open doorway.

With hand on the cold knob, he stopped suddenly to listen carefully to the sound that could be heard close by. Though faint, he could decipher the distinctness of breathing and it piqued his interest enough to open the door wider in order to see where it was coming from.

He even stepped out into the hallway, wondering which of his servants would be awake at this time of night and what business they had to be so close to his room. He was certain to give them a reprimanding for disturbing his peace and being in close proximity to a room in which only Mr. Matthews had been allowed, and even his permission had been limited to the rare occasion.

Erik was surprised to see Estella curled up beside a nearby column, her head resting against it as she slept in a position that could not have been comfortable for her neck.

Though he was still upset with her for having taken the liberty of perusing his personal quarters and even searching his intimate possessions, he found that he could not ignore the small twinge of guilt and sympathy that began to form upon seeing her there.

Had she meant to fall asleep there? Certainly not, he could imagine. Had she wished to be near him, or was she overtaken by fear or exhaustion before she could return to her own room? He could not imagine that her motive had anything to do with him, though it puzzled him as to why she had not returned to the sanctuary of her bed. After all, had she not been afraid of him, only hours ago?

He felt a chill that swept through the house and watched her lip tremble ever-so-slightly, and he despised the fact that it had bothered him. Should he not care nothing for her? And yet, he was contemplating a search for something to keep her warm.

Even as he searched for a blanket, he wondered why he had felt obligated to go through the trouble, when she had proven herself to be a disappointment to him. She was not the woman he thought her to be, and she would treat him no differently than anyone else.

He reasoned, though, that she was still his wife, and he had an obligation to make her as comfortable as she could be, and so a few minutes later he had emerged from his room with the sought-after item-a velvet crimson throw.

He bent down and carefully placed it over her body, hoping that it was not a disturbance to her as he contemplated what he should do with her. Could he just leave her there, or how else would he get her to her room? The very last thing that he wished to do was carry her.

It seemed as if the problem had been solved for him, for his gesture of kindness had proven to wake her.

Estella looked up at him with groggy brown eyes before she was alarmed by her surroundings. It took her a few moments to call to mind what had happened and why she had fallen asleep on the floor.

Meanwhile, Erik felt as if he had been caught doing something that he should not have been doing, and he hoped that she would not speak on the matter of his presence.

Estella rose to her feet and stretched her neck, feeling the pain of poor posture as she did so. A stone pillar certainly could not compare to the comfort of her bed, and she wished more than ever that she had not allowed herself to fall asleep away from it. At least she would not have been required to face Mr. Destler so quickly after their quarrel if she had only returned to her room.

She felt the pain travel to her temples, and she rubbed her forehead with her hand in an attempt to soothe it. Erik watched the gesture with strained eyes, hoping that she would return to her room so that he could retire for the night and not have to speak to her. But of course the latter would be impractical.

"Please forgive me for disturbing you," she half-moaned in her sleepy state.

Her mind felt weighed down to the point where she could hardly comprehend where she was, let alone form a proper sentence, and she knew that all would be well if she could only reach her room.

Erik said nothing in return, only watching her with careful eyes to see what she would say or do next.

When Estella's hand fell at her side and she looked up at him, she felt the guilt return from her previous actions.

How wrong she had been to have disobeyed his orders by violating his privacy! She had meditated on his words to her, determining that he viewed her as no better than someone who had hurt him before.

_I know your kind,_ he had said. And what was it about not giving into her trickeries? Certainly those words would not come from a man who was not damaged, and to think that she had reminded him of his former pain had made her feel worse. Even as she listened to the haunting melodies that had drifted through the air, she could only think of how wounded he must have been.

Overall, it was not in her place to know things that he would not divulge to her. If he did not wish to tell her of his past, of why he wore a mask, and who he was, then that was his decision. She had determined that he was not entirely a wicked or corrupt man, and that he had his secrets in order to protect himself from a deep wound that still pained him, and she would not be someone to reopen that wound intentionally.

The thought that he had judged her as someone who could not be trusted, as someone who would so cruelly rip off the mask of a man who had something painful to hide, had troubled her mind so much that she felt that she could not walk away from him without speaking on the subject.

"Even if you do not forgive me for my behavior, I wish for you to know how very sorry I am. It was not my place to have entered your room. But I cannot go back to sleep without you knowing that it was never my intention to remind you of a painful memory," she explained softly. "I know that I have betrayed your trust, but I would never force you to show me what is beneath that mask without having your permission. And I am not manipulative, even if you think me to be."

"Then why else would you have gone where you do not belong? Would you expect that I would have willingly entertained your curiosity?" he retorted, a hint of anger returning to his voice.

"It was curiosity, and nothing more. I was only curious as to your whereabouts, for I had not seen you since we have married," she replied. "I was not intending on prying any further."

Erik was angered that she would not allow him the freedom of seclusion. Of what did it matter to her, where he was and what he was doing?

"Am I not entitled to my solitude? Must I answer to _you_?"

Estella ignored his bitter resentment, deciding it best not to argue with him. It was too late in the night to ignite another tirade, and her wearied body insisted that she rest.

"You may do as you please, and I shall not bother you," she said in defeat.

With a small curtsy, she began to walk in the direction of her room and away from him. Before she had gotten very far, however; she turned around to say one last thought that was on her mind.

"I thought that you told me the reason why you wanted to marry me was because we were so alike, and we could share in our suffering together? If that were true, then you would not be hiding yourself away from me."

She did not allow him to respond, for she had quickly descended the staircase and disappeared into the shadows.

* * *

><p>Two days later, Estella felt as though she was slowly losing her sanity, and she huffed out of frustration. Setting her book down next to her on the cream-colored divan of the foyer, she glanced over at the crackling flames of the fireplace beside her.<p>

The sky was dreary and gloomy, casting grey light into the room through the window panes. The sun was nowhere to be found that day, and judging by the way in which the bare trees would sometimes move with the wind, she determined that it was probably chilly outside.

She had spent her time searching for something to do, and while her attention had been momentarily captivated by a book that she had found, two hours of reading had been enough for her. She could only take the silence of the room for so long until she felt unable to sit much longer.

She quickly stood up and walked over to the window, watching how the light played upon the water of the lake. She called her lady's maid into the room so that she might have some form of socialization with another human being, though the conversation of a servant left much to be desired.

"Do you know where Mr. Destler is?" Estella asked the young woman.

Marguerite had been carrying a fresh nightgown for Mrs. Destler that she had planned on placing on her bed for later that night, but she had been interrupted. She frowned when she saw the sad expression on her lady's face.

"I am afraid not," she replied sadly.

She had observed how melancholy and forlorn Mrs. Destler had been for the past nearly two weeks since her arrival, and she wished that she could think of a way to cheer her up, but she had been much too busy with her own duties and it was not her responsibility to provide companionship.

Estella nodded her head in acknowledgement and turned back to face the window again. How she missed the warm weather already, deciding that she could probably expect the first snowfall any day. If only she would not be required to wear a coat outside, then perhaps she could enjoy herself by basking in the sunlight and watching the birds among the trees, or sitting among the vibrant flowers of the garden.

Instead, the flowers were dying, the air was cold, and she was trapped inside the confines of the estate with no one to keep her company.

She had already searched all of the rooms that she could think of, save for the area that belonged to Mr. Destler-for she would not make that mistake again!-and found most of them to be useless. She could not play the instruments that had occupied a few of them, no guests were to be invited to dine or dance, and of what use was a ballroom when she had only herself?

The annoying insistence in her mind to escape from her prison pressed her to ask something that she knew was foolish, even to herself.

"Would you be so kind as to fetch my coat? I wish to take a walk."

Marguerite curtsied politely to dismiss herself in search of something warm for Estella to wear, though she did not agree with her decision to explore the outdoors. It was much too cold, and the sky was threatening rain, but it was not in her place to question her employer.

Once she had returned with a thick wool coat, she assisted Estella into it, but she could not help but to warn her in the kindest and most humble way possible.

"Would you care to wear a bonnet, Mrs. Destler? It is frightfully chilly outside," she urged.

Estella agreed, deciding that it was best to take precaution, though she knew that the entire idea was absurd to begin with. What would her husband say if he was to discover that she was tempting sickness by strolling about in this weather?

_Probably it would be of no consequence to him, _she decided. After all, she had not heard a single word spoken from him since the night in which she had been caught in his room.

After she had tied the dark-colored bonnet and even put on a pair of matching gloves for good measure, she felt mixed emotions course through her. How excited she was to get out into the fresh air, yet morose that her circumstances were so pathetic that she was seeking the cold, damp air as refuge and enjoyment.

Once she had stepped outside, her face was met with an icy wind that licked at her skin painfully. Marguerite watched, hoping that Estella would change her mind, but she stood by the door as instructed, nonetheless.

Estella walked a few paces with her head down in an attempt to avoid the frosty breeze, and after creating a short distance between herself and the estate, she turned around to wave to Marguerite that she would not be returning inside. With reluctance, the servant closed the door but determined that she would glance outside of a window at every opportunity to make certain that Estella was alright.

Another gust of wind was strong enough to bring tears to Estella's eyes, and she was certain that her cheeks would be raw from the contact. She held onto her bonnet as tightly as she could and searched for the thicket of trees that she could seek shelter in.

After a bit of walking but still feeling frozen to the point where she thought that her toes and fingers were ice, she could only curse herself for having been stupid enough to go outside. It was much too cold to take pleasure in nature, but she also felt that it was almost better to freeze than to be restricted to her loneliness inside, for she could not bare the thought of spending another moment in an empty room while knowing that her husband had taken no interest in her.

With each step that she took, her mind urged her to return inside. She stopped momentarily and turned around to see that the estate was now quite a distance away, but behind her in the horizon, she set her eyes upon a large building that she had not seen before. It was long, with wooden beams and several adjacent stalls, and her eyes lit up when she realized that she had found the stables.

A bit of time acquainting herself with the horses would prove to lift her spirits, and she nearly sprinted toward their quarters, both out of excitement and the desire to get out of the cold air.

She immediately went inside and closed the door behind her, panting and out of breath. How warm it was inside of the stables, and she bit her lip from the adjustment of her cold fingers and toes as they began to warm up, feeling the pins and needles as her nerves came back to life.

Nearby, a stable boy who looked to be in his teenage years was grooming a large black horse, and after Estella's breathing had calmed, she walked over to him with a smile.

Multiple stalls and doors could be seen throughout, with bits of hay strewn about here and there, but the first horse that she had set eyes upon was this black one, and she marveled at his beauty.

The brown-haired boy eyed her nervously, for he had not seen her before, and though he had been aware of what she would look like, he found both her beauty and identity intimidating, and so he focused on brushing out the coat of the horse.

"He's beautiful," Estella commented as she reached out to touch the animal's back. The horse lifted its head and turned to sniff her. "What is his name?"

"Cesar," the boy responded with hesitance. He was not quite certain if he was allowed to speak to the Lady of the House, but his instincts told him that if his employers asked something of him, then it would be rude of him not to respond.

"Cesar," Estella repeated softly to herself as she continued to rub his coat. Cesar nodded his head as if to say that she was acceptable to him and returned to eating a small patch of hay that stuck out from the bottom of his stall.

Estella imagined that these were the only few minutes in which he was not locked up in the small enclosure, and though he probably was allowed to roam the pastures, she felt pity for the lack of human affection that he had received. Such a strong and beautiful creature deserved to be exercised, and her face instantly lit up with excitement as a plan had formed in her mind.

"Might I be able to take him out for a ride?" she asked. This was certain to be a longer-lasting solution to her boredom!

The stable boy glanced anxiously around himself, but found that no one else was around to defend him, and he was not exactly certain how to be tactful about his answer.

"Perhaps you would be interested in riding one of the other horses, M'Lady?"

Estella was confused by his response, but determined to ride Cesar, nonetheless.

"Why not this one?"

She had been accustomed to being denied her hopes for so long, but it surprised her that even in her own household she would not be able to do as she pleased.

"Well..." he stuttered, knowing that he was beginning to upset her, "It is only that-that Cesar is the Master's favorite, and he only takes him riding on particular days..."

Though Estella was slightly relieved that at least her husband could give his attention to an animal who needed it, she was also perturbed that yet another thing was to be kept to him alone. And if he could take the time to spend with this animal, why could he not indulge his own wife in a bit of conversation once in a while?

She was growing tired of being excluded from everything, and there was no reason why she couldn't ride the horse of her choosing!

"Does not everything belong to me as well?" she retorted. "Or am I not allowed to ride my husband's horse?"

Too afraid to face her anger, he nodded his head.

"Forgive me," he muttered before searching for the items that she would need.

Meanwhile, Erik was seated at his desk, staring down at his unfinished work with his brows furrowed.

Though John had said that the two of them would be taking a small leave of absence so that they might enjoy themselves for a few weeks without having work, Erik already knew of what his next project would be, and he found that he could not simply leave it for when he returned.

Instead, he had spent many hours envisioning it in his mind and attempting to translate it onto paper, and even though it was not nearly completed, he still felt that something was lacking.

As if to cloud his judgement further, he felt the pain in his stomach from the absence of food. He had gone long enough without a meal, and he was forced to set his work down and ring for Mr. Matthews.

After he had requested that a meal be brought to his room, he absentmindedly glanced out of the window before him, where he saw something that he had not been expecting.

Estella could be seen mounted on top of a black horse in the distance, urging it to run further away from the estate.

Erik knew which black horse that was, for it was the only one that he possessed of that color, and he immediately felt the heat race to his cheeks.

Was it not enough that this woman had already disobeyed him, and now she was prancing about on Cesar as if he was her horse? If she had not already been so far away from him, he would have marched out there and given her a piece of his mind, but instead, he was reduced to scowling at her shape in the horizon from his room.

_She is proving to be a grave error on my part, and more trouble than she is worth! _he thought angrily to himself.

Once she had disappeared from view, he attempted to focus his thoughts elsewhere, though it was a challenge. Finding the familiar urge to compose, he pulled out a new sheet of paper and scribbled away.

If there was one thing that he could trust and that would never leave him, it was music.

The clock chimed eight times in the evening, and Erik would have normally paid no heed to it, but he was interrupted by a knock on his door. He hoped for Estella's sake that it was not she who would be found on the other side.

He heard the small voice of Marguerite Thorson call from behind the door, much to his surprise.

"Forgive me for disrupting you, Sir, but it is a matter of importance," she said through the thick door.

Sighing, Erik willed himself to answer it, and when he did, he found that the red-haired woman had concern and worry written all over her features.

"I apologize, but I am uncertain as to the whereabouts of Mrs. Destler," she explained.

Erik felt thoroughly annoyed that where Estella was at that moment should matter to him, and he wished to return to more important tasks.

"Have you checked the library? Or perhaps she is wandering around somewhere," he said with a wave of dismissal.

Estella had been no more than a prying Pandora to him thus far, and he wished to remain as far away from her as possible.

Marguerite could see that he was busy and that he appeared to have other matters on his mind, but she did not wish to walk away that easily. Instead, she bit her lip and looked down at the floor, knowing that she was becoming a bother to her master.

"I am concerned for her well-being, for you see; she went outside to take a walk earlier this afternoon, and she hasn't returned."

Erik felt his anger once again. Perhaps Estella had finally run away? It did not surprise him that his own wife would disappear permanently, for what woman in her right mind would wish to reside with a monster for a husband?

"If she has gone, then let her go," he replied nonchalantly, though inside the thought infuriated him.

He did not know whether to be relieved that he would no longer be bothered by her constant intrusions, or angered by the fact that she had left him.

Marguerite knew his meaning, and she was shocked. She glanced up at him through small eyes with her brows knitted in fear.

"But, Sir, it is raining and the cold air is causing it to turn to ice! Should we not go looking for her?"

Erik suddenly recalled to mind that he had seen her riding Cesar and that only an hour or so later it had begun to rain, and he knew that the temperature outside was dangerously cold. He had even seen the ice begin to form on the glass of his windows, and he wondered if she was still outside, or if she truly had found shelter elsewhere.

"Alright, then let us search for her," he told Marguerite, who then gathered together a handful of servants who would brave the weather.

Groaning in displeasure, he returned to his room to find his hooded cloak, and though he wished for nothing more than to be left alone in his room for the rest of the night, he knew that it was not an option.

As long as Estella was his wife and if there was even a minute chance that she could still be found on his property, then he would need to find her. While he had not taken a liking to her, he could feel the dread begin to build at the pit of his stomach, and he remembered his duty to protect her.


	15. Chapter 15

**Thank you so much for the reviews-I love reading every one of them!**

Ch. 15

Erik pulled the black hood of his cloak up to better hide his face. Even though he had already made certain that any servants who could not stomach the sight of his mask or would not hold their tongue in gossip had already been released from employment, he could not help but to feel self-conscious anyway.

It was one of the reasons why he attempted to shield every inch of himself from sight, and the other had been because of the frigid drops of ice and rain that stung his skin. He trudged through the mud and wet grass further, ignoring the fact that the slush was clinging to his shoes and even dirtying the edges of his dress-pants, until he had reached the stables.

Off into the distance in nearly every direction, he could see the huddled forms of his servants wrapped tightly in thick clothing in an attempt to both stay warm and search for Estella. Marguerite Thorson had suggested that a few of them search the forest, though Erik felt it hopeless, as there was an overabundance of trees surrounding the estate that stretched for miles, and if his wife had truly left permanently then she would choose not to be found.

Still, he felt the fear and dread in the pit of his stomach as he prepared himself before opening the door to his stables.

Inside, the heat gave his skin a bit of relief, and he quickly closed the door to prevent the rain from coming in.

Erik searched the stalls but could only find the majority of his horses either sleeping or lazily eating, as if they did not have a care in the world. All of them except for Cesar were accounted for, and he cursed under his breath at the thought that Estella had taken Cesar with her. If his beloved horse was never to be found again then he would find a way to make her pay for it.

He questioned the few servants in the stables that he could find, and save for one boy telling him what he already knew-that Estella had taken Cesar out for a ride earlier in the day-he had learned nothing.

Deciding it best to continue his search outside, he grasped the cold knob with his hand and prepared himself for the terrible weather that he would once again become vulnerable to.

The rain outside was now pouring, and the wind was so fierce that he could hardly see much distance ahead of him without regretting the pain of the cold rain that would follow upon lifting his head.

After nearly twenty more minutes of fighting against the elements, he was growing tired and too cold to persevere much longer, and the thought of going inside to sit by a warm fire was more than welcoming.

It was obvious that Estella did not wish to be found, and he would be forced to cut his losses. Brooding about the loss of Cesar did not appeal to him, but then again neither did participating in a hopeless search in frigid temperatures either.

On his way back toward the estate, however; Marguerite Thorson could be seen sprinting in his direction.

"Sir! Sir! Wait!" she called out in despair.

She picked up her skirts and tried to run faster, her legs burning and her face chapped from the wind.

Erik stopped and brought his hand up to his eyes to shield himself as he watched her come to a halt in front of him to place her hands on her knees and catch her breath. He could not help but to feel alarmed by her terrified and urgent demeanor.

A thick blanket of rain cascaded around them, and when she had looked up, he saw the horror in her eyes. For a brief moment, he had to wonder if his mask had accidentally come off, and thereafter reassure himself that it hadn't, for he had never seen such fear in another person, except for when they were looking at his face.

"The horse...the horse was found!" she gasped in between breaths.

"Where is he?" Erik demanded, thankful that Cesar had at least returned to him.

Marguerite pointed a trembling finger in the direction of the stables, which were behind her.

"He is alright. They are taking care of him."

Erik nodded his head, feeling the relief that came from the news. If Cesar had been harmed or fallen ill then he would never have forgiven Estella.

"They found him...over there..." she pointed to a thicket of trees not far from the two of them. "He was whinnying and reluctant to follow us."

Erik wondered why Cesar would have been behaving that way, for it was not in the animal's nature to be stubborn. He was normally a horse to enjoy attention from others, and if someone should call to him then he was always quick to respond.

To make matters worse, both he and Marguerite turned to see Mr. Matthews emerge from that very same grove of trees, yelling and pointing at them. The two of them could not make out what he was saying, as the rain hitting the icy ground with the wind was overpowering to their ears, but they quickly headed towards him.

Erik was beginning to feel remorse for his formally-calloused attitude in regards to Estella's disappearance, and he genuinely began to worry for her. Perhaps she had not run away, after all, and he had wasted valuable time that he could have searched for her earlier? Was she injured, or had she become ill in this weather? Or perhaps worse...he shuddered to think it.

He forced his cold and aching legs into a panicked run, and soon he had reached Mr. Matthews, who by now had drawn the attention of a few of the other servants.

"We have found her!" he told Erik, though the tone of his voice was nothing to rejoice over.

Erik knew that something awful had happened, and remembering what Marguerite had said about Cesar's behavior, he knew that Estella had been injured. He prayed that she was alright as he made his way into the forest, weaving among the branches and being careful not to stumble on the fallen trees.

If once he reached her it was too late, he would never hold a clear conscience. He felt that he had driven her away from him by his cold behavior, when only two weeks ago he had promised her a better life and friendship.

Even if she had not turned out to be the woman whom he thought, it was still his responsibility as a husband to make certain that her needs were met reasonably, and if she had purposely chosen to brave the storm outside and the oncoming winter, then he had failed in some way.

"She is bleeding," Mr. Matthews added as he breathed heavily and attempted to keep up with his employer.

Erik now broke out into a frenzied pace, and he was eager to find her.

A few servants showed him the way, and after going deeper into the darkening forest, he saw her. Lying in a dark heap on the ground, he could not see if she was awake.

"Estella!" he called out to her, but he heard no response. Two women were standing beside her, wondering what they should do, when they parted for him to draw closer.

"She is breathing, but she will not last for long out here..." one of them spoke softly to him with sad eyes. "We must get her inside!"

Erik quickly fell to his knees beside her, seeing the red stain of blood on her dress that had trailed down from her forehead. On top of worrying about her lack of consciousness, he feared that she had been motionless for a while and had suffered from hypothermia. Her skin was so pale that one could not tell that it was usually brown, and her full lips had a blue tint to them.

Without hesitation, he scooped her up carefully into his arms and held her tightly to his chest, feeling his own heart race within it. Her head tilted back to expose the soft skin of her neck, and her dark brown curls clung to the sides of her face.

It felt odd to think that his wife was finally in his arms, but he had no time to contemplate it at the moment. He carried her toward the house as quickly as his legs would carry him, no longer feeling the icy grip of the rain and wind on his own skin-all that he could think about was whether or not she would be alright.

If only he would have been kinder to her! Had he not shown compassion in marrying her and getting her out of her wicked uncle's care? Why could he not have continued to show compassion after she had become his wife?

He loathed himself for it, as he felt that her dire situation was now entirely his fault.

Marguerite saw her in his arms and clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp before she went to send for a doctor.

Once inside, Erik endured the pain in his legs as he ascended the staircase that eventually led to her room, leaving a wet trail of cold water behind him on the floor, and there he asked for assistance in getting her inside. He knew that the doctor would arrive quickly, and he wished to be out of the room before then.

He set her down on the bed, and she immediately soaked the sheets. Her clothes were so wet and cold that he knew she needed warmth, and so he hastily set about to lighting the fireplace.

"A doctor is coming," Marguerite announced breathlessly in the doorway. She quickly pulled off her own drenched coat, throwing it on the floor in the hallway, and raced over to Estella's bedside. "I will try to get her into some warm clothes."

Erik nodded in agreement, and requested that a few maids assist her. Two other women scurried into the room, and he felt that it was time to take his leave.

Though he had no desire to leave her until he knew that she would be alright, he simply could not risk staying in the room when the doctor had arrived, for though he had managed to find a handful of servants who could be bribed into silence, he did not want to tempt fate by exposing himself to more unfamiliar people than necessary. And so he would wait in another room until it was safe to return.

Marguerite walked him to the door and began to close it, but Erik stopped her.

"You will let me know as soon as he is gone? You will tell me what is happening?"

Marguerite nodded her head, her auburn-colored hair now drying in wisps and curls.

"Of course, Sir," she replied before he left.

Erik paced the small study back and forth as he waited for a sign. He could hear the footsteps, shuffling, and even muttering of voices eminating from the room beside his, though he could not determine what was being said.

He rubbed his aching temples and tried to maintain his composure. No matter how Estella had behaved, she had not truly been cruel to him in any way, and she did not deserve what she was enduring.

He had not lost all hope of forming an alliance with her, though he had temporarily cast it aside due to his anger. He hoped that, if she would be alright, the two of them could start anew. And if she would not survive, well...

He could not think of it. He could not think of anything except for the regret of his behavior and how she would not be possibly dying in the next room if it hadn't been for him.

He wanted to slam his fist into the wall, but he refrained from doing so. Could he do nothing right?

He was not certain which idea was worse-the fact that he had driven her close to her death, or that he cared this much about her. Either way, he prayed for her safety.

The suspense as he waited for nearly half an hour was so torturous to him that on a few occasions he had contemplated going into the next room despite what the doctor would say or think of his masked face, but he settled on sitting in front of the fireplace in an attempt to warm himself, with his hands folded in his lap. He knew that if he were to catch cold, then he would be of no use to Estella if she were to wake up.

After a few more minutes, he heard a soft knock on the door, and he nearly jumped out of his chair to answer it. Marguerite gave a weak smile, though he could see the sadness in her eyes.

"Her injury was minor," she announced. "But she is very weak and suffering from illness. She will need plenty of rest and to keep warm, and he said that she might run terrible fevers. Only time will tell."

Erik felt his breath catch in his throat at the realization of how serious Estella's condition was upon seeing her. She had not gained much of her color back in her complexion, and though she had been changed into warm clothes and covered in sheets and blankets, she still looked cold.

Her cut had been sutured, but her eyes remained closed. Erik furrowed his brows in concern and Marguerite noticed the worried gesture.

"She is only sleeping. Perhaps in the morning she will feel better," she attempted to reassure him, but it did not help.

Reluctant to leave her be, Erik sighed in defeat and dismissed himself after letting Marguerite know that he would stop by to check on his wife in the morning. But nothing could rid him of the terrible feeling that he had that made him nearly sick to his stomach as he walked away from her.

_All of this is my fault._


	16. Chapter 16

Ch. 16

Erik had awoken earlier-than-usual the following morning, and as he had just knocked on Estella's door and awaited a response, he decided that the least he could do was attempt to converse with her more than he had been.

After all, of what harm would it be to make a bit of small talk once-in-a-while? Besides, he found himself sorely lacking in companionship as well, and he hoped that perhaps the two of them could get to know each other better. Though he was still guarded about his behavior around her, for he feared that she would only continue to prove herself the same as anyone else toward him, he was determined to at least give the idea an effort.

Marguerite Thorson answered from the other side of the door with brows knitted in concern and darkened rings below her eyes that suggested her lack of sleep.

"How is she?" he asked, now growing worried. He attempted to sneak a glance at Estella from behind the servant but he could not see her.

"Perhaps you should return this afternoon. She is in no shape for conversation at the moment," she suggested.

Though she had spoken in a gentle and kind tone of voice, her words had proven to be an annoyance to Erik. It was his decision whether or not he would speak to his own wife, and the fact that her condition had worsened had made him even more determined to see her.

"I wish to see her," he said.

Marguerite bowed her head in humility, recognizing that she had made a mistake by suggesting a course of action to her employer, and she stepped aside and opened the door wider.

Erik quickly stepped inside and strode over to Estella's bed, where she could be found semi-conscious and looking very ill.

He noticed the paleness to her skin and the beads of sweat upon her forehead, and he watched her as she appeared to be in a fit of discomfort. She looked as if she was having a terrible nightmare, tossing and turning, and even groaning at times.

Her lovely features contorted into a look of pain but she did not open her eyes. Erik placed the back of his hand on one of her cheeks to feel that she had a clammy and cold feel to her skin, yet it also felt hot.

"She has been this way all morning...running a terrible fever and very confused," Marguerite explained sadly.

Erik pulled his hand away and frowned.

"So she has been awake today?" he asked.

"Only for brief moments, and she does not seem to be aware of her surroundings," she replied. "She doesn't know where she is, or even who she is."

Erik nodded grimly. It was just as the doctor had said-that she would become very ill with awful fevers that her body would need to fight on its own. There was nothing that he could do to assist her or to take away her pain, and he feared that perhaps she would not survive, after all.

He heard the sound of water being poured behind him, and he turned around to see Marguerite carrying a large bowl with a washcloth toward Estella's bed.

"I have been wiping away at her forehead at times in order to reduce the fever. I am not certain if it helps, but it seems to calm her."

Erik watched Estella shake her head back and forth as if trapped inside of a terrible dream, and her breathing became shallow and labored.

Marguerite pulled a chair closer to the bed and set the bowl down on the nightstand before she dipped the linen into the water and rung out the excess liquid. Before she had finished, Erik asked,

"May I?"

Marguerite was a bit surprised that he wished to be the one to care for Estella, for she had known of the couple's circumstances and lack of affection-or even friendship, for that matter-but she handed him the wet cloth, anyway.

Erik seated himself beside his wife and observed how her hairline had become wet from perspiration, and he wished to alleviate her suffering, even if only slightly. He placed the cloth on her forehead and gently began to pat the sides of her face until he could see her visibly relax, even almost leaning in towards the gesture.

He had ample time to observe her beauty once more, and he determined that even while sick and possibly near death she was stunning. A part of him was even envious that she should always have vanity at any moment, for he would never experience flawless skin or a smooth complexion for even a second of the day, while she had never experienced ugliness.

Estella's breathing calmed and after a bit of coaxing from the smoothness of Erik's voice, she had even stopped jerking in her sleep. A peaceful expression had formed on her face, though he could see that she was still sweating profusely.

"Has she had any water?" he asked Marguerite, who had been watching him with great interest.

"I have tried to get her to drink, but she has only taken a little."

He knew that Estella would most likely begin to suffer from dehydration if she hadn't already done so, and he noticed the glass of water on the nightstand. Then, turning to Marguerite, he could see the redness in her eyes and the way she was constantly blinking as she fought the urge to remain awake.

"You may take a break and rest," he told her.

Marguerite was again surprised at his suggestion, though she knew him to be a kind master. Still, she had to be reluctant about agreeing to it.

"I feel that I cannot leave her at a time such as this. She needs someone to look after her," she explained.

"I will stay with her," Erik stated.

After a few more reassurances that he could manage on his own and that she was more than welcome to check upon her lady's condition after she had taken a nap, Marguerite had finally cooperated and left the room. She closed the door behind herself, and Erik was now alone with Estella.

The room was quiet, save for the intermittent crackling of the fireplace and the brief howling of the wind against the window. He casually glanced outside to see that the weather had not improved since the previous day, in fact; it looked to be even colder than before.

He cursed himself once more for having neglected Estella to the point where she felt the need to entertain herself elsewhere. Even he at times-he, who had been accustomed to living in darkness and solitude-felt that he was losing his grip on reality if confined for too long, and he could sympathize with her need for freedom. After all, had he had a normal face, he certainly would not keep himself locked inside of the estate every day, and it was unfair to expect her to do the same.

He dipped the cloth back into the water and replaced it on her temples. She stirred a bit from the contact, though she was not fully awake.

"Thank you, Samuel," she whispered with a smile.

Erik felt his heart lurch forward in his chest as the cruel and familiar hand of jealousy gripped it. He was not pleased that her words had provoked such an unpleasant emotion within himself, and he frowned.

Samuel must have been the man whom Hattie had been speaking of, previously. Yes, he had overheard something about a 'Mr. Roberts' refusing to marry Estella and breaking her heart, and he imagined that this 'Samuel' was the very same man.

The smile still lingered on Estella's face, her full pink lips curved upward, and for a brief moment he wished that he had been the one to cause it. He pushed the thought from his mind, warning himself of the danger of thinking in such a way and feeling the self-loathing that was brought about by it.

He knew that developing feelings for her, even if in the form of being envious of a former lover, was a most unwise course of action and not a path that he wished to follow again. He hoped that the reminder of her affections being placed elsewhere would prove to assure him of the outcome if he were to think of her romantically-that things would end no differently than they had with Christine, or perhaps, worse.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke again.

"Did you...tell your mother...about our engagement? Was she not displeased?"

Estella's lips parted for a toothy grin, and Erik wished that there was a way to make her stop talking nonsense, but he did not have the desire to wake her (and he wasn't quite certain that he could, either).

"Did she shriek...at the top of her lungs?" she teased. "Did she want...to disinherit you...for loving a half-breed?"

Erik felt the pain that had laced her voice, and he wished that she had never had to experience such treatment because of her skin color.

Estella began to giggle before she broke out into a fit of coughs, and Erik feared that she was exerting herself too much. In an attempt to calm her, he placed the cloth back on her forehead and gently stroked her skin with it.

Once she could breathe again, a small smile had returned. She reached a hand up to grasp his, and he froze in fear from the contact.

"You are always...so good to me..." she breathed.

Her eyes slowly fluttered open and he could see their brown warmth as she looked up at him.

He could not move, he could not think, and he had forgotten to breathe, himself. How wonderful it felt-her hand on his-during the one time in which he had decided not to wear his gloves. The sensation of her fingers on his skin, and the loving expression in her eyes was too much to bear, and for once he had begun to reason on enjoying the moment.

But he felt guilty in his pleasure, and he pulled away from her and turned his back to her in order to collect his composure.

How could he take advantage of her in her weakened condition, even enjoying the affections meant for another man? He was an imbecile, at best! Had he not learned?

Suddenly, Erik realized the danger of being the one to care for her, and he set the cloth down on the nightstand and decided it best to ring for Marguerite. Before he could do so, however; Estella called out to him.

"Wait! Don't leave me...please..." she begged.

Erik turned around to see the desperation in her eyes before they had closed again, and she seemed utterly exhausted. Such a sad expression on her face was too difficult to ignore, and he struggled within himself to make a decision.

If he should leave her for a while, she would probably not remember it. She had been in a state of confusion, and how was she to know that it was really him and not someone else? Truly there would be no purpose in him staying, and she would not notice the difference if Marguerite was the one to attend to her in his stead.

In silence, he walked over to the fireplace and stared at the flames as he pondered his circumstances. After a few moments, he heard her once more.

"Mr. Destler..."

He was shocked to hear her speak his name, and he immediately turned around to see that she was struggling to stay awake. Her arm lay at her side on top of the blankets that she had been wrapped in, but he could see her palm facing upward and seemingly-outstretched toward him.

"Please, don't leave..."

He could not help but to feel the pull in his chest, urging him to draw closer to her. The softness of her request had weakened him, and he knew that he could not leave her, now.

Not while she was requesting _him_, and no one else.

Throughout the day, Erik had taken a few meals in Estella's room, though he felt uncomfortable about it. He had attempted to get Estella to eat or drink a little, but he had only managed to have her finish a glass of water before she fell asleep again.

Her fever had not broken and her temperature had not improved. Still she had frequent fits of pain and illness, and on many occasions Marguerite had come in to provide assistance.

He had only left her side for an hour or so, when he had made certain that she was in a deep slumber, but the time had not been spent in a better way. Later, he found that his conscience was much clearer when he was by her side, after all; it was his fault that she was sick to begin with.

Deep into the night, he had fallen asleep in the chair beside her bed. The servants had retired for the night, and all was silent in the house.

"What are you doing here?!" Estella gasped.

Erik shot upright in his chair, instantly regretting the pain that bolted through his neck. He glanced around at his surroundings as his eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the dying fireplace.

Once he could make out the terrified expression on her face, he became alarmed. Had she realized who he was? Had the fear of a masked man watching her finally taken hold of her? Or was she dreaming of what lay beneath his mask?

"Don't come any closer!" she said in a terrified voice that was barely above a whisper.

He then realized that her eyes were closed and she appeared to be sleeping. Still, he could not help but to wonder if it was he who filled her thoughts and nightmares, and he attempted not to move a muscle so as not to frighten her more.

"Samuel, please..." she begged helplessly.

Erik felt somewhat relieved that she was not speaking about himself, though it bothered him to see the agony written on her face nonetheless.

Her breathing quickened and he hovered above her, wondering if he should attempt to cool her skin with the wet cloth once more, or how else he could bring her a bit of relief. He had never felt so useless as he did at that moment, when she began to writhe around in pain.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled.

He was shocked to hear her say such things, but he decided that she must have been lost in an imagined nightmare.

"Please don't look at me! Please..." she pleaded.

He now saw tears trailing down her caramel-colored skin, and the sight angered him.

Certainly she would not have had such strong emotions and fear for a man who had once claimed to love her, without good reason. The thought that she had suffered at the hands of the man whom she had loved as he took advantage of her brought a rage to Erik that he did not think he could possess.

He attempted to assure himself that he was simply overreacting, and perhaps it was all in her imagination. But the longer that she begged and pleaded for him not to look at her, even sobbing hysterically, he knew that it was not the case.

He was not exactly certain what had happened to her, but he no longer felt the jealousy of hearing about this man-instead, he felt a hatred. How could anyone degrade this beautiful woman-his wife-in such a way? Even if she had not been violated, clearly he had done something to hurt her, and dwelling on this caused Erik to brood.

She was in such a fit of hysteria that he feared she would only make herself more ill, and so he attempted to think of ways to calm her down but could think of nothing. How was he to comfort someone when he had had no experience? How was he to soothe another person, when he had been the root of everyone's fear all of his life? Could a monster prove to be relief to a nightmare?

Erik could not endure the sound of her crying as the tears streamed down her face and her body was shaking, and despite his determination to remain impartial, he found himself doing all that came to mind in order to soothe her.

He sat beside her on the bed and stroked her hair, and without even realizing it at first, he began to hum a melody to her.

How long it had been since he had sung, and he could hear the strain in his voice from the lack of practice! But it did not matter, for her brows had slowly relaxed and her sobbing had simmered to a few sniffles.

Erik was stunned that he had such a power over her and the capability of calming her, but he did not cease in his endeavors. He was able to comfort her, and he would not allow her to return to the recesses of her nightmarish memories as long as he had the ability to prevent it.

He continued this way for a few more minutes until it seemed that her bout had passed, and, after deciding that the exhaustion was returning to him once more, he resumed his place in the chair beside her bed until the two of them had drifted off into a deep slumber-one without dreams.


	17. Chapter 17

**I apologize that this chapter is in Estella's POV, as I am trying to focus more on Erik, but this chapter was necessary. I hope that you enjoy, anyway!**

Ch. 17

_Estella wrapped her light rose-colored night-robe tighter around herself and tied the sash around her waist with a sigh. Only one week had passed since the man whom she loved had asked for her hand in marriage. _

_She daydreamed about the warm summer day when Samuel Roberts had asked for her permission to take a stroll among the rose garden together, and how she had marveled at the beauty of the various pinks and whites of the soft petals of the flowers. She could remember their sweet fragrance, and how he had observed her with a smile that had lit up his handsome features._

_She had looked at him and laughed, for the two had shared in some sort of amorous but silent exchange of glances, and he had filled her heart with joy with his visits. Often she had wondered how a man of high class and wealth would ever take an interest in her-for he was to inherit his father's estate in a short while-but he had never made her feel less than a lady, in fact; she felt more alive around him than anyone else._

_She did not question herself around him, for the color of her skin did not cast a shroud of disgust on his opinion of her, and at times she even forgot about it, herself. And once her uncle had heard about her impending marriage-even from Samuel's own lips the words were spoken-he had not been upset. Though she could not say that John was elated, either, she felt as if his opinion of her had at least somewhat improved since the acceptance of Samuel's proposal._

_And Hattie, of course, had been taken with envy and fits of jealousy, but that was to be expected. Estella had been too ecstatic for her upcoming wedding and indulged herself in the details of the planning for the majority of her time and did not allow herself to dwell on her cousin's sour mood._

_Estella stared at herself in the mirror and noticed the glow about her face as she brushed her hair until it was soft before she had decided to retire for the night._

_But her mind had refused to let her sleep, for that day she knew that Samuel had made their announcement to his parents, and she wondered how it went. Though she did not know them well, for they seemed to be a haughty couple (for the vastness of their estate gave ample reason to be so), she feared their disapproval._

_A knock came to her door, startling her, and she immediately went to answer it. Samuel stood, holding a small candle, and she was surprised to see him calling upon her so late at night. She opened the door enough to see him, but attempted to remain hidden from his sight, for she was improper._

_"Samuel, is something the matter? What are you doing here so late at night?" she asked, worried._

_His light brown eyes were hidden behind thick lashes, and she noticed the despair found within them. _

_"May I come inside?"_

_Estella attempted to hide her surprise, for she never would have expected a gentleman to ask such a thing. _

_"But I am not dressed appropriately and it is late-"_

_"Please...I must speak with you," he pleaded._

_Sighing in defeat, she opened the door wider to let him in. She closed it quickly and urged him to speak quietly so that no one would discover that he was in her room at such an hour. She was already viewed as anything but a lady, and she did not want to make matters worse._

_Samuel placed his candlestick down with a deep exhale as he thought about everything that had transpired that day. When he turned around to face her, he set his eyes upon her beauty and had nearly forgotten his troubles. _

_He could not help but to allow himself a glimpse of her feminine curves beneath the thin chiffon material of her night attire, and how the candlelight played upon her light brown skin made him anxious to call her his wife. She was intoxicating to him, and he found that the more time that he spent with her, the stronger his addiction for her became._

_"My parents are aware of our upcoming marriage," he began slowly, watching to see her reaction. "And they are most displeased."_

_Estella's brows furrowed. It was just as she had imagined-that his parents could never see beyond her color and lack of fortune. She would never be one to mingle among the public or to be found at a party, for she was always kept on a tight leash by her uncle so as to never leave the confines of her home. How could she expect them to rejoice at the news that their son was to wed a 'nobody' (or worse, a mixed-breed)?_

_Samuel saw the pain in her eyes, and he wished that the truth had been anything but. Nevertheless, he did not want to see the look of unhappiness on her face, and so he drew closer to her and grasped her hands in his gently._

_"Do not fear, for I do not need their approval," he soothed, stroking a stray curl away from her face. _

_Estella felt the tears prick the corners of her eyes as she looked at him. His dark brown curly hair and olive-colored skin truly showed his partial-Italian origins, and to think that this man held her heart and loved her in return had already felt surreal, but now she felt her dreams would never come true._

_He placed the palm of his hand on her cheek and stroked her skin with his thumb._

_"I will marry you," he added with a smile._

_"Even if it is against their wishes?"_

_"Yes," he replied._

_Estella smiled and glanced down at the floor out of shyness. Samuel caught her chin with his fingertips and tilted it upward before placing a soft kiss on her lips. He pulled her closer to himself and deepened the kiss. _

_Though it felt wonderful, she pulled away breathlessly._

_"Samuel...You really should not be here..."_

_Though she wanted nothing more than to melt into his arms and feel his lips once more, she knew that it was wrong._

_"Why not? You are to be my wife soon, and it makes no difference now," he smirked, attempting to kiss her again._

_Estella giggled and turned her face away from him, and he began to kiss her neck. She gasped and playfully batted at him, urging him to cease his naughty behavior._

_"Really, you must go," she repeated._

_The two of them had only shared in one kiss before that night-their first kiss the day in which he had proposed-and she was not about to give in to anything more._

_He pulled away from her, hurt._

_"So you do not want me?" he asked, and she could see that he was beginning to grow upset._

_"Of course I want you!" she quickly responded. "That is the problem-that I want you, and we are not yet married!"_

_"But I already told you that it does not matter. We will be wed in a matter of weeks; of what difference is it if we show our love, now?"_

_"It makes a difference to me," she said. _

_Samuel dropped her hands and stepped away from her, turning his back toward her._

_"I am a patient man, but what you are doing is torture. Ever since I first laid eyes on you, I have wanted you."_

_Estella blushed at the thought and could not help but to smile. To think that a man found her desirable, and perhaps even beautiful, was certainly something that she never thought that she would hear._

_"But I will wait," he sighed._

"M'Lady?"

Estella was snapped out of her reverie by Marguerite Thorson's soft voice.

She glanced around the room to see that she was still in her bed, the sheets a tangled mess around her legs, as Marguerite held out two different dresses for her to see.

"Which one do you prefer?" she repeated.

Estella observed the maeve-colored fabric of one and the navy-color of the other, and she found that it did not matter to her what she was to wear. She had never had the luxury of many choices when living with her uncle, and anything would be better to wear than the wrinkled and dirtied frock that she had on.

"It makes no difference to me," she replied with a wave of her hand.

She felt weak, exhausted, and most of all, hungry. It had been nearly a week since she had fallen off of that black horse, and though she could hardly remember the first few days of her illness, she had gradually improved and could recall the few times in which she had woken up during the past few days. She had eaten a little food lately, but it was certainly not enough to satisfy her, now.

Her fever was gone, but in its place was a weakness and appetite that she had not felt before. As if to confirm this, her stomach growled very loudly, and she reddened out of embarrassment before the servant.

"Would you like for me to draw you a bath? I will let Mr. Destler know that you are awake, and then we can find you something to eat," she suggested.

Estella nodded her head, eager to clean herself up and to fill her empty and aching stomach with food.

But more importantly, she was eager to see Mr. Destler.


	18. Chapter 18

Ch. 18

Erik sat back in his chair and observed his work. For the past few hours, he had been scrutinizing every minute detail and fretting over the nuances of his latest project, and he found that he was unable to focus much longer on it.

He stood up and stretched, feeling the stiffness that had overtaken his legs from the painful task of sitting uncomfortably at his desk for far too long. He glanced at the clock; it was two o'clock in the afternoon, and he thought of what to do.

He had not called upon Estella that day, afraid to disturb her if she should be resting, but he decided that it was a good opportunity to do so. A bit of time outside of his room and interacting with someone else should prove to be beneficial to him, and besides; he wished to know whether or not her health had improved.

With an optimistic determination, only few minutes later, he found himself knocking on her door.

"Come in," she called out from the other side, and he took this as a sign that she had, indeed, been feeling better. At least hearing her voice had been a reassurance to him, as the only other times in which he had heard her speak had been amid her disilusions and nightmares.

Once he opened the door and welcomed himself inside, he was grateful to see that she had been seated in front of the lit fireplace with a book in-hand. She also wore an emerald-green-colored gown, and it was refreshing to see that she had even taken the time to pin up her hair. How well she must have felt, after all!

A smile played upon her lips when she saw him, which was something that he had not expected. She set the book down beside herself and turned to him.

"I hope that I am not interrupting anything," he said out of politeness.

"Not at all," she replied warmly.

Erik stood in front of her and folded his hands behind his back. Now that she was awake and fully-competent, he found himself uncertain as to what to do or say in her presence. When she had been unconscious he had not been required to make conversation, and he felt uncomfortable by the questions that were brought to the forefront of his mind.

He wondered if she had planned on running away. Perhaps the accident-whatever had happened-had prevented her from doing so? Had she really been so miserable to be his wife that she wished to leave? He was suspicious as to her intentions, and the thought that he had driven her to such an idea plagued him to no end.

"I want to thank you for what you did for me," she said softly. "I am greatly indebted to you."

She remembered how he had gently wiped away the beads of sweat on her forehead, and though she could hardly remember much else, she thought that she had recalled a voice singing to her as she slept.

If that soothing voice had belonged to him, which she suspected it had, then her opinion of him had greatly improved. She even found herself blushing a bit, and she hoped to use the excuse that the heat emanating from the fireplace had caused the discoloring in her cheeks. Thankfully, he didn't seem to notice.

Erik remained silent, his mind whirling with the darkening thoughts that threatened to consume him. He wondered if this prison-of being trapped in marriage to him-was worse than her former life. Had she been desperate to escape him, even risking her mortality?

She could see the grim expression on his face, and she wondered what it was that gave him grief.

"Is something the matter?" she asked.

Erik was drawn from his contemplation by her light-brown eyes. How unfair it was that his wife should be so beautiful, and to have her fate shackled to that of a monster's.

"I only wish to know why you left," he responded.

Estella glanced down at her hands in shame. Her stupidity had not ceased in humiliating her every time that she thought of what she had done.

"I am ashamed of how foolish my actions were. I can only hope that you will forgive me for placing myself in danger, and for taking your favorite horse, no-less."

Erik allowed her words to absorb into his thoughts, but the one question still lingered. Had she meant to abandon him?

"Were you...were you wanting to leave?" he struggled to ask.

Estella furrowed her brows at him and stood up quickly, wrapping her dark-green shawl around her shoulders as she did so.

"I was not leaving you," she was hasty to defend herself.

He could not help but to be suspicious as to whether or not she was telling the truth, for he could not understand why there would be any other reason for exposing herself to such terrible weather.

"I felt suffocated inside, yes, but I was only wanting a breath of fresh air. I wanted to clear my mind for a bit," she explained.

"You feel as if you are being suffocated?" his voice began to rise in anger. "I know that I have forced your hand to you living here, but have you traded your life with your uncle for a fate that is worse?"

He knew better than to ask her, for all reason and logic told him that no one could possibly be happy with him. It was impossible for him to live even a semblance of a normal life, but yet he found himself unable to control his temper when hearing it spoken from her lips, anyway.

"That is not what I meant!" she replied.

She took a deep breath to prevent herself from allowing her emotions to force her to say something that she would regret, and she knew that stoking the fire of his temper was not an intelligent course of action.

After she had calmed her nerves, she explained herself.

"But you must understand that I am a human being; I have a need for socialization and companionship-"

Yes, he could understand that. Even he himself could not deny that he felt those feelings, and that his loneliness had proven to torment him for many days of his life. Even _he_ longed for a companion.

"-and those are what you promised me before we married. I may not know much or anything about you, but shunning me will not make our circumstances better. Do you not think it beneficial for us to be friends, or to at least have a conversation that does not end in a quarrel, once-in-a-while?"

He was surprised to hear that she was not only requesting his company, but even getting upset about it. No one had ever displayed such strong emotions in his behalf, let alone even desired to spend time with him, and despite himself, he found that he could not stay angry with her for long.

"I was going to return," she added. "But Cesar was startled by something, and I fell."

Erik nodded his head in acknowledgement but didn't know what to say. What was he to say to a beautiful woman whom he had wronged, and who wished for his presence in her life, even if only occasionally?

Estella did not wish to speak more on the matter, for her embarrassment could not be contained. She had regretted her poor decisions and wished that she had found a better way to make her feelings of isolation known to him.

"Perhaps we can start anew by having a meal together? I have not yet eaten this afternoon," she suggested.

Erik knew that he would be uncomfortable by doing so, and he remembered the work that he had yet to finish that lay waiting for him in his room.

"I am overwhelmed with the amount of work that I must finish. I really do not think it best-"

"I thought that you were on a hiatus from your profession?" she asked with suspicion.

She could see his reluctance and she felt that he was avoiding her intentionally.

"I am, but a few weeks have passed since making that decision, and I do not wish to be caught unprepared when I should return," he said.

Estella eyed him cautiously, and she tried her best to conceal her disappointment.

Though she still did not know much about him, she had surmised that he had lacked the experience of entertaining, dining with, or even conversing with other people, and she found his discomfort to be a reason to display forgiveness for denying her request. At least he was not a proud and arrogant man, even if his desire for solitude had rendered him incapable of normal socialization.

"I suppose that I can permit your absence _this_ time," she sighed. "But if you wish to uphold your word, then you will need to show a bit more effort when it comes to conversing with me."

A brief moment of silence passed before her eyes lit up from a new idea.

"What about music?" she asked cheerfully.

"What?" he responded, taken aback by her boldness.

"Would you afford me the opportunity to hear you play? I know how valuable your time is since you have been preoccupied, but I'm not asking for a lot of it," she attempted to persuade him.

He was irritated that her prying into his personal life had never ceased. The last time in which he had played music for another person to hear-especially a beautiful woman-it had resulted in extortion, betrayal, and abduction, and then he had to watch the woman whom he loved leave him for another man. Why would he wish to do something that would remind him of these events?

"I saw the pianoforte in the library, and I confess that I cannot play any instrument, myself. My uncle never allowed for me to learn. But I heard you play not long ago, and you are quite talented," she continued.

Erik was reminded of the time when she had violated his privacy by entering his room, and the thought of her overhearing the songs that were meant to be played for no one did little to convince him to acquiesce to her wishes.

"I did not mean to upset you," she said, noticing that his mood had not softened. "It is just that...you play so beautifully, and I thought that it might be easier for you to spend time with me if you are doing something that you take pleasure in."

He saw the look of grave disappointment and loneliness on her face, and he felt guilty. He began to reason on agreeing with her, and the fact that she had complimented him on more than one occasion had begun to inflate his ego.

Of what harm would it be to play a few songs for her? The two of them were already married, so it was not as if he would deceive her into becoming his bride, as he had meant to do with Christine. They were not around the company of others, so there would be no need to be secretive or threaten those around him.

A little playing of the pianoforte would not be so bad, but he still worried about the memories that would flood his mind. Perhaps if he kept it short and simple, he could tolerate it for a moment enough to play. And he could not deny that he wished to hear more of her flattering in regards to his work, for they had been quite lacking from the mouths of others all of his life.

"Alright, I shall play for you. I can make time at seven o'clock this evening. We shall meet in the library?"

Estella was surprised that he had agreed, after all, and her smile both returned and widened.

"I shall look forward to it," she said. She could hardly contain her excitement.


	19. Chapter 19

**Sorry for the prolonged delay. I was out of town and didn't have my laptop with me, but I did do some writing while gone. I hope that this long chapter makes up for it, and it will need some tweaking since I am mentally and physically exhausted, but at least it's something.**

**Enjoy, and please don't forget to review!**

Ch. 19

Erik gazed back at the man whose stern and unflinching stare seemed to paralyze him. His eyes roved over the fine golden silk material of this man's vest, which could be seen beneath the black waistcoat, and then they wandered to his face; a strong and clean-shaven jawline, the prominant cheekbones and thick eyebrows were satisfactory. The eyes which, at times, appeared to be honey-colored and warm but could also look green and piercing, could pass the scrutinization of other people. Perhaps they could even be seen as a desirable color.

But one detail of this man's face could not escape Erik's notice, and no matter how this man dressed or carried himself, nothing could ever improve the flaw of the right side.

A mangled piece of flesh that had not only tainted his appearance but also had not afforded him the opportunity of happiness in his life could not be ignored. He glared at the curse that had been inflicted upon him and seemed to mock him in the mirror.

He diligently adjusted his ivory-colored cravat, returned his mask to his face, and glanced at the time; it was nearly seven o'clock in the evening and there were only twenty-two minutes before he would meet Estella in the foyer. He could already feel the dread and anxiety overwhelm him simply at the thought of it, and he wondered how he would be able to endure it.

No matter the fine attire that he wore and despite the way he had combed his dark hair back to appear as a sophisticated gentleman, he would never consider himself to appear even a semblance of normality, and so he left his room with an exasperated sigh, but not without requesting a glass of brandy before he was to play.

Meanwhile, Estella smoothed her cream-colored dress and prayed that her husband would find her appearance to be presentable. She found herself growing nervous at the prospect of seeing him play for her, and after the many days in which she had longed for the company of another human being, she could not understand why she now felt so self-conscious when the time had finally arrived.

In the foyer, Erik fidgeted with the lapel of his coat as he waited for his drink, and once Mr. Matthews had delivered the bottle and glass, Erik felt the relief from his first few sips. His nerves began to calm, even if only a little, and he visibly relaxed. He waited for her, seated on the bench in front of the pianoforte, and his gloved hands fell into his lap.

It was not much longer until he saw her standing in the doorway, and he quickly rose from his seat to greet her. Her eyes lit up from a smile and he decided that he rather favored seeing her this way, after all; he wished to soon forget how ill she had looked only days ago when she had been fighting for her life.

"Thank you for coming," she said, after the door had been closed. She seated herself on a nearby chair. "I know how valuable your time is, and I was afraid that you would have changed your mind."

Erik was not expecting her admission and he was even somewhat delighted at the thought that she actually _wanted_ him there.

Once he had positioned himself comfortably before the musical instrument, he could feel her eyes upon him and he suddenly felt uneasy. He looked at the glass that was within arm's-length and decided to take another swallow before he asked, "Is there anything in particular that you wish to hear?"

Estella thought for a moment, but she realized that she was not well-acquainted with music, or many songs, for that matter.

"Whatever you wish to play is more than enough for me," she replied.

Erik was not certain as to what she meant, but he nodded and poised his fingers above the keys. Then he realized that he would feel awkward to play while his hands were gloved, and though he had done so many other times before, he decided to remove the black leather.

Estella watched with close observation, and she determined that music was-and once had been-of great consequence to him. She knew by now that he was a very guarded man who kept to himself, but that he opened himself up to his music. He not only showed himself to be vulnerable, even by showing his bare hands while playing, but also expressed himself through every note that drifted into the air.

The longer that she listened to him play a slow and sad melody, the more real he became to her. She could hear his emotions with every key that was struck, and she watched the expressions that could be seen on his face even as his eyes had closed. Music made him human, and he almost became a different man in those moments.

Instead of the quiet, reserved, and even distant man whom she had seen, his brows were now furrowed and she could see the pain written on his features. The song was beautiful-just as wonderfully as she had remembered him to play-but it mirrored his inner struggles and was haunting to listen to. Whatever it was that troubled him had not been a scratch on the surface, instead; it was a deep wound that had never healed.

As the speed of the song picked up and grew louder, she felt the passion run through to her very core and she became overwhelmed with emotion as the tears formed in her eyes. She not only felt his pain, but she was reminded of her own, as well. It was as if she was reliving the moment when she had discovered that her parents had been murdered, or that her uncle would never come to love her as his own. She could feel every thought and feeling that she had the night in which Samuel had visited her and told her what had happened.

_A knock came to her door in the middle of the night, and Estella awakened. After lighting a few candles, she opened the door to see Samuel standing in the hallway._

_"Is something the matter?" she asked. _

_Though alarmed, she tried to keep her voice quiet, for she did not wish to disturb the others who were sleeping. She shivered from a chill and remained mostly hidden from behind the door, as the thin material of the nightgown that she wore did little to keep her warm (or proper, for that matter)._

_"I...I must speak with you," he answered._

_Something was not quite right in the tone of his voice, and Estella asked if they could converse in the morning, but after he had pleaded with her, she sighed and allowed him to come inside. Still, she felt self-conscious enough to cross her arms across her chest and she pretended that he could not see her in so little clothing._

_"My parents have disowned me," he announced sadly._

_Estella's heart sank in her chest but she could not say that she was surprised. _

_He explained to her that his mother and father had expected his engagement to be a terrible mistake, and that they had assumed that it would dissolve quickly, but once they had realized the seriousness of his decision, they had refused to allow him to be their heir. He would not receive a penny from them._

_Estella was severely disappointed and worried about him, but what she feared most was the alcohol that she could smell on his breath. She had never known him to take to drink, and she could only imagine how troubled he had been to have become intoxicated._

_She attempted to reassure him with kind and loving words, but she could not make the worried expression disappear from his face._

_He drew close to her and wrapped his arms around her in an embrace, and when he pulled back he began to caress her cheek softly._

_"Do you love me?" he asked in a whisper._

_"Of course I do," Estella smiled, hoping that it would miraculously provide the solution to their problems. Though it was not much, she still hoped that he would choose to be with her despite what others thought, and she knew that she could be happy with him even if they had no money._

_Samuel kissed her gently at first, and then a hunger inside of him had been awakened. He wove his fingers through her hair and pulled her closer, crushing her lips to his._

_Estella pulled back in fear when his fingers had begun to unlace the ties on her gown, and she knew to the fullest extent how close they were becoming to doing something dishonorable._

_"You really must be going-"_

_"You do not want me here?" he asked with an expression of sadness on his features._

_"You can call upon me in the morning, but I really must go to sleep," she said._

_Samuel's face clouded over with a dark expression, and she knew that he was angry. She had never seen him in such a state, and it frightened her. But even as she took a few steps backward in order to increase the distance between the two of them, he closed in on her._

_"You know that this is improper-"_

_"You will be my wife! What is improper about it?" he yelled._

_Estella cringed at the loudness of his voice, and she attempted to persuade him to remain quiet. If anyone should discover that she had welcomed a man in her room at such an hour then she would certainly ruin both her's and his reputation._

_She tried to gently urge him toward the door with a soothing voice, but he grabbed her and began to kiss her neck. She no longer felt an amorous way about the gesture, instead; she began to panic. She asked him to let her go and even attempted to remove his hands from her waist, but she found that he was uncooperative._

_She placed her palms against his chest but she could not push him away. He noticed how she struggled and it angered him even further that she would refuse him once more._

Estella was snapped out of her thoughts by Erik's voice, and she realized that the music had ceased.

Erik saw the tears trailing down her cheeks, and he immediately felt the guilt consume him as he realized that he had brought about such a reaction.

"Have I upset you?" he asked.

Estella felt embarassed when she felt the wetness of her cheeks, but she could not stop them. The sadness of his music had reminded her of the memories that she had tried to repress for so long, and she could not hide how she had felt, no matter how disgusted she was with herself to show such weakness in front of him.

"It is nothing," she stated, though Erik was not convinced.

He blamed himself for making her cry, and though he had not known quite what to expect, he had not imagined the night to take such a turn for the worst.

Estella noticed the bottle of amber-colored liquid sitting on top of the piano beside Erik, and she could not help but to wonder how much of it he had drunk.

He saw how she gazed at the bottle, and he was taken aback by what she asked next.

"May I have a drink?"

He almost thought that he had imagined the question, but as she looked at him, he realized that she was serious.

He poured her a small glass and walked over to where she was seated. As he handed it to her, he warned her of its strong and unpleasant taste, and he was certain that she would not like it.

"I have never had a drink," she admitted before she brought the glass to her lips and smelled its contents. It certainly smelled strong and awful, and the taste of it was even worse! She wrinkled her nose in disgust after she had taken a sip and commented on how she did not understand why anyone would wish to drink it.

"It is vile at first, but becomes more agreeable to the palate after a while," Erik explained.

He thought that she would immediately give it back to him, but instead, she held her breath, threw her head back along with the glass, and swallowed the liquid quickly before setting it down on the small endtable beside her.

She grimaced as she felt it burn her throat, but after a few moments she began to notice its affects. She felt relaxed and her pain begin to numb, and now she understood why people chose to drink it.

Without any warning, she stood and walked over to the bottle and poured herself another glass. Erik watched her carefully as she swallowed it yet again, and he was at a loss as to what to do or say. He could only empathize with whatever demons she was wishing to forget by numbing herself with the liquor.

Estella slowly walked over to the divan and sat down, now feeling her head begin to whirl. She realized that she had not eaten much that day, and she knew that she should have stopped drinking after the first glass, but it was too late.

She laid back against the cushions and somehow felt numb and terrible at the same time. Her emotions were conflicted inside of her, and she did not know whether to be relaxed and not feel anything at all, or to burst into tears again. Instead, she turned to look at Erik, though the room sort of spun around the shape of him.

"Won't you sit beside me?" she asked softly.

Though hesitant, Erik could hardly resist the gentle tone of her request, and he obliged her. After all, if it would make her feel better after what he had done to her by playing his music, then there would be no harm in sitting beside her.

Still, he wished to keep his distance and did not know what to expect from her.

He felt very uneasy as her eyes wandered over his face, and he knew that she was studying his features. He wondered what she was thinking, but he was too afraid to ask.

Estella could scarcely form a logical sentence in her thoughts, let alone decipher exactly what she was feeling, and when she blinked, fresh tears had fallen.

Erik felt the knot in the pit of his stomach as he imagined that he had been causing the reaction, but before he could think of a way to leave, she had spoken.

"What is wrong with you?"

It sounded like a genuine question, but he had noticed the hint of anger in her voice.

This was the moment that he had dreaded, and he had attempted to do everything to avoid. Of course he could not pretend that he did not wear a mask, and that she would ignore it. He feared what would come of the conversation, but he knew that it would not end well, as he could feel his temper rising.

"When you drink brandy, you play music..."

He was thoroughly confused by her words, and even somewhat thankful that she was apparently inebriated, for he hoped that she would quickly forget the subject of his mask.

He felt even worse when she began to sob uncontrollably, and he did not know how to console her. Should he touch her shoulder, if only gently, to bring her some comfort, or would it repulse her? It felt as if sitting there beside her, motionless, would do nothing to calm her, yet he couldn't find the courage to touch her.

"Do you wish for me to leave?" he asked.

He felt that he had caused this and would only make matters worse, and if he was the reason for upsetting her then he would face the reality of it and excuse himself.

Estella looked up at him through teary eyes, and he loathed himself for making her cry.

"Don't you understand?" she half-yelled. "Samuel drank brandy and it was not the ivory keys of a pianoforte that he touched!"

Erik felt the chill sweep down his spine from what she had said, and he let her words sink into his mind.

"He came into my room. It was late at night, and he tore my dress. It is a terrible feeling to be exposed to someone when you are unprepared!"

Though he did not know it in the same sense as she did, he had also borne the humiliation of being exposed-the night in which Christine had ripped the mask off of his face in front of a crowd of shrieking people. It was something that he would never forget.

"I could not bear for him to look at me, but he did. I felt so helpless," she continued.

Erik felt the heat in his veins as the thought of what this man had done to her consumed his mind and infuriated him. It took a great measure of self-control to remain beside her and to maintain his composure as he listened to her. The fact that a man had violated her, even though she had not been his wife at the time, was nearly unbearable, and he vowed that if he ever met him, he would make him suffer.

"He wanted more. His intentions were to rob me of my honor and dignity, but I would not let him. I fought him with all of the courage that I could gather, though inside I was terrified and shaking. I managed to escape before he had the chance to..."

She paused to collect herself, and prayed that she would shed no more tears. After she had wiped the remaining away, she told herself that she was stronger than this, and she would not allow herself to cry again.

"After that night, he would not even look at me. He announced to my uncle the following day that he would not marry me, and now he has taken a wife of good breeding and reputation."

Erik was sickened by her recollection, and he had completely forgotten his previous fears that she had been repulsed by him. Instead, he could not help but to think of the many ways in which he wished to inflict pain upon this man.

Estella sniffled and felt the numbness take control of her once more, and she was grateful that her mood began to lift as the brandy overpowered her. She noticed the brooding expression on Erik's face and she frowned.

"Do not trouble yourself on my account," she said, but Erik could not erase the anger that he felt. How could she expect him to remain calm after recieving such news?

"Make no mistake that I will never allow him to do it again! You are safe here."

Estella was touched by his remark, but she did not wish for him to be upset. This was not at all how she had imagined the night would transpire.

"I know that I am safe with you," she said. A warm smile played upon her lips, and it made Erik's breath catch in his throat.

To make matters worse, Estella grabbed one of his hands and removed his glove. Before he could respond or even comprehend what was happening, she began to trace the lines in his palm.

"I never get to see your hands...such beautiful music they create..."

Erik could hardly breathe as he savored the sensation of her fingers on his skin, but he was struggling to give in to her touch at the fear of rejection. He knew that she was not thinking clearly, and that the alcohol had caused her to make unwise decisions, and he did not wish to become vulnerable to another woman by acting out on his desires for affection.

He knew that it would only end in pain and regret, but the temptation to pretend that she was touching him out of her own free will was difficult to resist. He had to remind himself that she couldn't possibly develop feelings for _him_, especially not if she were to see his face.

Still, he watched her dainty fingers on his palm, mesmerized.

"What is your name?" she asked.

He had never really thought about it, but now he realized that he had never told her, and it was foreign to him that someone wished to know.

"Erik."

"Erik," she repeated with another smile. She liked the way it sounded, and he could not tear his gaze away from her face as he noticed her delight.

He was utterly shocked when she had closed the space between them with a kiss, and when he felt her lips on his own, he became paralyzed. They were soft, and while tempting, he had not expected it.

She pulled away with a smirk, and his breath became laboured as he saw the rosey color of her cheeks. He swallowed hard and felt the prick of tears at the corners of his eyes, and he had to look away from her. He could not allow himself to harbor any hope. Not when she was not acting on her own accord.

"You should not have done that," he muttered, still thinking about her lips. How she was tormenting him and making him think things that he vowed never to dream of again!

"It was only a kiss, and I am your wife, after all," she defended herself.

Yes, he was reminded of two things that he thought he would never have-a wife, and a woman kissing him. Even if it had only been because of her clouded judgement, at least it had not been out of pity.

She yawned and felt the fatigue overtake her. Before Erik had been allowed the time to settle his conflicting emotions, he noticed that she had curled up against the divan and closed her eyes. He was both relieved and disappointed.

He fetched a blanket for her and covered her as she slept, careful not to disturb her. Though he knew that he could easily carry her to her room so that she might be more comfortable in her own bed, he thought it unwise to prolong his torture by having her in his arms after she had teased him with a kiss.

After all, it was that kiss that had left him confused and yearning for love. He had been determined not to make that same mistake again, yet the more time that he spent with her, the more difficult it became not to long for it.

And so he decided to let her rest and retire to his own room for the night, but he still could not stop thinking of her.

And even in his dreams, he felt her lips.


End file.
